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Hermione could never have fought with other women for the love or the
friendship of a man. Her instinct, perhaps, was to carry her treasure
out of all danger into the wilderness.
Two treasures she had--Vere her child, Emile her friend. And now she
was jealous of each with the other. And the enormous difference in
their ages made her jealousy seem the more degrading. Nevertheless,
she could not feel that it was unnatural. By a mutual act they had
excluded her from their lives, had withdrawn from her their confidence
while giving it to each other. And their reason for doing this--she
was sure of it now--was her own failure to do something in the world
of art.
She was jealous of Vere because of that confidence given to Emile, and
of Emile because of his secret advice and help to Vere--advice and
help which he had not given to the mother, because he had plainly seen
that to do so would be useless.
And when she remembered this Hermione was jealous, too, of the talent
Vere must have, a talent she had longed for, but which had been denied
to her.


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