The Frontier by Maurice LeBlanc

Marthe, who had kept her room since the day before, but remained attentive to all that was happening at the Old Mill, had, through her open door and window, heard and seen the hubbub, the fuss made by the servants, all the mad fluster of a house that feels itself threatened by an approaching cyclone.

She had overcome her fit of anger and hatred, was now mistress of herself and was no longer frightened of a possible meeting between Philippe and Suzanne. Another torment obsessed her. What did her husband mean to do? Brought face to face with an eventuality which he had often contemplated, what line of conduct would he pursue?

And it was he that she was watching. Before she went away, she wished to know. She overheard his first conversation with Victor. She saw his meeting with Captain Daspry from a distance. She saw him go to his room. She saw him come out again. And, in spite of herself, although urged by a very definite feeling, she stood up before him like an obstacle:

"Where are you going? " she asked.

Philippe did not lose countenance. He replied:

"What interest can that have for you?"

"Come," she said, "we have to speak to each other. Come in here."

She took him into her room, shut the door and repeated, in a masterful tone:

"Where are you going, Philippe?"

He replied, with the same decision:

"I am going away."

"There is no carriage."

"I shall walk."

"Where to?"

"To Noirmont."

"To take which train?"

"The train to Paris."

"That's not true," she said, vehemently. "You are not going to Paris. You are going to Langoux, to take the train to Belfort."

"Just so, but I shall be in Paris to-morrow morning."

"That's not true! You do not mean to stop at Belfort. You will go on to Bale, to Switzerland. And, if you go to Switzerland, it will not be for a day, it will be for months. for your life!"