The three girls, ranging in age from ten years old downwards, were all blonde and wore blue frocks trimmed with white lace. They looked like three exquisite little dolls. Already pretty, each one showed every sign of becoming as beautiful as her mother as she grew. The three sons, two with chestnut-coloured hair and the nine-year-old eldest already dark, looked likely to grow into tall, sturdy, broad-shouldered men. There was a strong family resemblance between them and the same strong, vigorous blood flowed in their veins.

The abbé said grace as usual when no guests were present. When strangers were entertained the children did not eat with their parents. The Comtesse was in the grip of a feeling she had not anticipated. She kept her eyes lowered as the Comte, with anguish and doubt in his own, looked from one to the other, first of the three boys, then of the girls. Suddenly, as he put down his wineglass, it shattered and pink liquid spread over the tablecloth. The sound of this slight accident made the Comtesse leap from her chair. For the first time husband and wife looked at one another. From then on, despite the wave of loathing which rose every time their eyes met, they kept raising and levelling them at each other like a pair of pistols.

The abbé, aware of an atmosphere between the couple but unaware of its cause, tried several times to get a conversation going. He tried one topic after another, eliciting not the slightest response. No one spoke a single word.

The Comtesse, with instinctive feminine diplomacy and aware of her social obligations, tried several times to reply. In vain. She could not string two sentences together such was the turmoil within her. Her own voice frightened her in the silence of the vast room where only the clink of silver on porcelain could now be heard.

Leaning forward towards her the Comte suddenly said: ‘Here and now, surrounded by your children, will you swear to me that what you told me earlier on is true?’

The hatred now seething in her veins gave her the courage to stand up suddenly and respond to the question. Raising both her hands, one towards her sons and one towards her daughters, she said unfalteringly in a firm and resolute voice: ‘On the heads of my children I swear that what I told you is true.’

He got up and threw his napkin on the table in fury. Turning, he hurled his chair against the wall and without another word left the room. Heaving a great sigh of relief as if after some great victory, she went on calmly: ‘Pay no attention, my darlings. Your father has just received some very bad news. He is in great distress as a result. It will pass in a few days.’