"How should I know?" she replied, in the same tone.

Then she rose and added:

"My head aches too much to remain here. Give me your arm and take me up
to my room."

She went out, leaning upon his arm. I was left there stupefied.

I remained in the drawing-room, resolved to insult him as soon as he
should return. But the abbe now entered, and soon afterward my Uncle
Hubert. They began to talk on subjects which were quite strange to me
(the subjects of their conversation were nearly always so). I did not
know what to do to obtain revenge. I dared not betray myself in my
uncle's presence. I was sensible to the respect I owed to him and to his
hospitality. Never had I done such violence to myself at Roche-Mauprat.
Yet, in spite of all efforts, my anger showed itself. I almost died at
being obliged to wait for revenge. Several times the chevalier noticed
the change in my features and asked in a kind tone if I were ill. M.
de la Marche seemed neither to observe nor to guess anything. The abbe
alone examined me attentively. More than once I caught his blue eyes
anxiously fixed on me, those eyes in which natural penetration was
always veiled by habitual shyness. The abbe did not like me. I could
easily see that his kindly, cheerful manners grew cold in spite of
himself as soon as he spoke to me; and I noticed, too, that his face
would invariably assume a sad expression at my approach.

The constraint that I was enduring was so alien to my habits and so
beyond my strength that I came nigh to fainting. To obtain relief I went