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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 56 pages of information about Madame De Treymes.

He hardly knew what prompted him to utter the wish, unless it were a sudden stir of compunction at the memory of his own dealings with Madame de Treymes.  Had he not sacrificed the poor creature to a purely fantastic conception of conduct?  She had said that she knew she was asking a trifle of him; and the fact that, materially, it would have been a trifle, had seemed at the moment only an added reason for steeling himself in his moral resistance to it.  But now that he had gained his point—­and through her own generosity, as it still appeared—­the largeness of her attitude made his own seem cramped and petty.  Since conduct, in the last resort, must be judged by its enlarging or diminishing effect on character, might it not be that the zealous weighing of the moral anise and cummin was less important than the unconsidered lavishing of the precious ointment?  At any rate, he could enjoy no peace of mind under the burden of Madame de Treymes’ magnanimity, and when he had assured himself that his own affairs were progressing favourably, he once more, at the risk of surprising his betrothed, brought up the possibility of seeing her relative.

Madame de Malrive evinced no surprise.  “It is natural, knowing what she has done for us, that you should want to show her your sympathy.  The difficulty is that it is just the one thing you can’t show her.  You can thank her, of course, for ourselves, but even that at the moment—­”

“Would seem brutal?  Yes, I recognize that I should have to choose my words,” he admitted, guiltily conscious that his capability of dealing with Madame de Treymes extended far beyond her sister-in-law’s conjecture.

Madame de Malrive still hesitated.  “I can tell her; and when you come back tomorrow—­”

It had been decided that, in the interests of discretion—­the interests, in other words, of the poor little future Marquis de Malrive—­Durham was to remain but two days in Paris, withdrawing then with his family till the conclusion of the divorce proceedings permitted him to return in the acknowledged character of Madame de Malrive’s future husband.  Even on this occasion, he had not come to her alone; Nannie Durham, in the adjoining room, was chatting conspicuously with the little Marquis, whom she could with difficulty be restrained from teaching to call her “Aunt Nannie.”  Durham thought her voice had risen unduly once or twice during his visit, and when, on taking leave, he went to summon her from the inner room, he found the higher note of ecstasy had been evoked by the appearance of Madame de Treymes, and that the little boy, himself absorbed in a new toy of Durham’s bringing, was being bent over by an actual as well as a potential aunt.

Madame de Treymes raised herself with a slight start at Durham’s approach:  she had her hat on, and had evidently paused a moment on her way out to speak with Nannie, without expecting to be surprised by her sister-in-law’s other visitor.  But her surprises never wore the awkward form of embarrassment, and she smiled beautifully on Durham as he took her extended hand.

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