Months rolled on in silence.
Then a new torture came. He must not be dead but unfaithful. At this all
the pride of her race was fired in her.
The struggle between love and ire was almost too much for nature:
violently gay and moody by turns she alarmed both her mother and the
good Dr. Aubertin. The latter was not, I think, quite without suspicion
of the truth; however, he simply prescribed change of air and place;
she must go to Frejus, a watering-place distant about five leagues.
Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire yielded a languid assent. To her all places
were alike.
But when they returned from Frejus a change had taken place. Rose had
extracted her sister's secret, and was a changed girl. Pity, and the
keen sense of Josephine's wrong, had raised her sisterly love to a
passion. The great-hearted girl hovered about her lovely, suffering
sister like an angel, and paid her the tender attentions of a devoted
lover, and hated Camille Dujardin with all her heart: hated him all the
more that she saw Josephine shrink even from her whenever she inveighed
against him.
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