Raymon is not only a creep, he's also a cad and a calculating jack-ass.
I hope Sand makes him suffer later in this novel, but something tells me he might get away with it all.
Raymon felt that with a little skill he might deceive both these women simultaneously. ‘Madame,’ he said, going down on his knees before Indiana, ‘my presence here must seem an outrage to you; I am on my knees before you to beg forgiveness. Grant me a few moments in private, and I’ll explain . . .’
‘Say no more, Monsieur, and leave my room,’ cried Madame Delmare, recovering all the dignity of her position.
‘Go openly. Noun, open that door so that all the servants can see him and all the shame of such behaviour fall on him.’
Noun, thinking her situation had been discovered, fell to her knees beside Raymon.
Madame Delmare, saying nothing, looked at her with amazement. Raymon tried to grasp her hand, but she withdrew it indignantly. Red with anger, she got up and, pointing to the door, repeated:
‘Go; go, for your conduct is infamous. So that’s the means you wanted to use! You, Monsieur, hidden in my room like a thief! So it’s your habit to get into families like this. So that’s the pure attachment you were swearing to me yesterday evening!
That’s how you were to protect, respect, and defend me! That’s the way you worship me! You see a woman who has helped you with her own hands, who, to bring you back to life, has braved her husband’s anger. You deceive her with feigned gratitude, you swear to her a love worthy of her, and as a reward for her care, as a reward for her credulity, you want to surprise her in her sleep and hasten your success by some indescribable infamy. You bribe her maid, you almost sneak into her bed like an already accepted lover. You’re not afraid of letting her servants into the secret of an intimacy which doesn’t exist. . .
Go, Monsieur, you’ve taken care to open my eyes very quickly.
Leave, I say, don’t stay another moment in my house.