done for Marie, she need not subject herself to her husband's
displeasure by contradiction or interference.

Michel Voss himself said little or nothing to his niece at this
time. She had yielded to him, making him a promise that she would
endeavour to accede to his wishes, and he felt that he was bound in
honour not to trouble her farther, unless she should show herself to
be disobedient when the moment of trial came. He was not himself at
ease, he was not comfortable at heart, because he knew that Marie
was avoiding him. Though she would still stand behind his chair at
supper,--when for a moment she would be still,--she did not put her
hands upon his head, nor did she speak to him more than the nature
of her service required. Twice he tried to induce her to sit with
them at table, as though to show that her position was altered now
that she was about to become a bride; but he was altogether
powerless to effect any such change as this. No words that could
have been spoken would have induced Marie to seat herself at the
table, so well did she understand all that such a change in her
habits would have seemed to imply. There was now hardly one person
in the supper-room of the hotel who did not instinctively understand
the reason which made Michel Voss anxious that his niece should sit
down, and that other reason which made her sternly refuse to comply
with his request. So, day followed day, and there was but little
said between the uncle and the niece, though heretofore--up to a
time still within a fortnight of the present day--the whole business
of the house had been managed by little whispered conferences
between them. 'I think we'll do so and so, uncle;' or, 'Just you
manage it yourself, Marie.' Such and such-like words had passed
every morning and evening, with an understanding between them full
and complete. Now each was afraid of the other, and everything was