To
what end?--I know not. My brain is not equal to seeing clearly into
these dark intrigues--perverse, ignoble, infamous! Your Madame
Marneffe does not love your son-in-law, but she will have him at her
feet out of revenge. I have just spoken to the wretched woman as she
deserves. She is a shameless courtesan; I have told her that I am
leaving her house, that I would not have my honor smirched in that
muck-heap.--I owe myself to my family before all else.
"I knew that Hortense had left her husband, so here I am. Your
Valerie, whom you believe to be a saint, is the cause of this
miserable separation; can I remain with such a woman? Our poor little
Hortense," said she, touching the Baron's arm, with peculiar meaning,
"is perhaps the dupe of a wish of such women as these, who, to possess
a toy, would sacrifice a family.
"I do not think Wenceslas guilty; but I think him weak, and I cannot
promise that he will not yield to her refinements of temptation.--My
mind is made up. The woman is fatal to you; she will bring you all to
utter ruin. I will not even seem to be concerned in the destruction of
my own family, after living there for three years solely to hinder it.
"You are cheated, Baron; say very positively that you will have
nothing to say to the promotion of that dreadful Marneffe, and you
will see then! There is a fine rod in pickle for you in that case.
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