For the first time in her life Madame Darbois had to endure
humiliating refusals. The young widow of an officer was directed by a
friend of the family to apply. She seemed a promising person.
"You will have to be here every morning by nine," Madame Darbois said
to her, "and you will be free every afternoon by four. The course is
given in the morning, but twice a week there are classes also in the
afternoon; on those days you will lunch with us."
"And Sundays?"
"Your Sundays will be your own. The Conservatoire has no classes on
Sunday."
"So I understand that you would employ me only to accompany your
daughter to the Conservatoire, Madame!" said the officer's widow,
dryly. "I shall be compelled to refuse your offer. I am unfortunately
forced to work to support my two children, but I owe some respect to
the name I bear. The Conservatoire is a place of perdition, and I am
astonished," she added, "that the professor, who is so universally
esteemed and respected, could have been able...."
Madame Darbois rose to her feet. She was very pale. "It is not
necessary for you to judge the actions of my husband, Madame. That is
enough."
When she was left alone Madame Darbois reflected sadly upon the
narrow-mindedness of her fellow creatures. Then she reproached herself
with her own inexperience that put her at the mercy of the first
stupid prude she encountered. She was well aware that the
Conservatoire was not supposed to be a centre of culture and
education, but she had already observed the modesty and independence
of several of the young girls there: the well-informed minds of most
of the young men.
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