“Even divorce you?” said he.
Elèn laughed.
Among those who ventured to doubt the justifiability of the proposed marriage was Elèn’s mother, Princess Kurágina. She was continually tormented by jealousy of her daughter, and now that jealousy concerned a subject near to her own heart, she could not reconcile herself to the idea. She consulted a Russian priest as to the possibility of divorce and remarriage during a husband’s lifetime, and the priest told her that it was impossible, and to her delight showed her a text in the Gospel which (as it seemed to him) plainly forbids remarriage while the husband is alive.
Armed with these arguments, which appeared to her unanswerable, she drove to her daughter’s early one morning so as to find her alone.
Having listened to her mother’s objections, Elèn smiled blandly and ironically.
“But it says plainly: ‘Whosoever shall marry her that is divorced …’ ” said the old princess.
“ Ah, Maman, ne dites pas de bêtises. Vous ne comprenez rien. Dans ma position j’ai des devoirs ,” said Elèn changing from Russian, in which language she always felt that her case did not sound quite clear, into French which suited it better.
“But, my dear …”
“Oh, Mamma, how is it you don’t understand that the Holy Father, who has the right to grant dispensations …”
Just then the lady companion who lived with Elèn came in to announce that His Highness was in the ballroom and wished to see her.