It was possible
that Carmen would also do exactly the opposite of what she meant to do
in her own crisis.
Her test was to come. Would she, after all, go off with the master-
carpenter, leaving behind her the pretty, clever, volatile Zoe. . . .
Zoe--ah, where was Zoe? Carmen became anxious about Zoe, she knew not
why. Was it the revival of the maternal instinct?
She was told that Zoe had gone off on her pony to take a basket of good
things to a poor old woman down the river three miles away. She would be
gone all morning. By so much, fate was favouring her; for the child's
presence would but heighten the emotion of her exit from that place where
her youth had been wasted. Already the few things she had meant to take
away were secreted in a safe place some distance from the house, beside
the path she meant to take when she left Jean Jacques for ever. George
Masson wanted her, they were to meet to-day, and she was going--going
somewhere out of this intolerable dullness and discontent.
When she pushed her coffee-cup aside and rose from the table without
eating, she went straight to her looking-glass and surveyed herself with
a searching eye.
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