The rapidity and variety of events in her life again startled her, and
once more she went over them. The disappearance of the bank-notes was
surely enough in itself. But on the top of that fell the miracle of
her love affair. Her marriage was like a dream of romance to her,
untrue, incredible. Then there was the terrific episode of Julian
on the previous night. One would have supposed that after that the
sensationalism of events would cease. But, no! The unforeseeable had
now occurred, something which reduced all else to mere triviality.
And yet what had in fact occurred? Acquaintances, in recounting her
story, would say that she had married her mistress's nephew, that
there had been trouble between Louis and Julian about some bank-notes,
and that Louis had had a bicycle accident. Naught more! A most
ordinary chronicle! And if he died now, they would say that Louis
had died within a month of the wedding and how sad it was! Husbands
indubitably do die, young wives indubitably are transformed into
widows--daily event, indeed!... She seemed to perceive the deep,
hidden meaning of life. There were three Rachels in her--one who
pitied Louis, one who pitied herself, and one who looked on and
impartially comprehended.
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