were in the little drawing-room, laughing and talking, surrounded by a
group of people, yet alone.

"Look at them!" she cried.

"What do you mean?" exclaimed the mother in agony. She read the truth
in her daughter's eyes.

"You know--"she began.

"That he is her lover," cried Micheline, interrupting her. "Don't you
see that I am dying through it?" she added, sobbing bitterly and falling
into her mother's arms.

The mistress carried her as if she had been a child into Cayrol's private
office, and shut the door. Then, kneeling beside the couch on which
Micheline was stretched, she gave vent to her grief. She begged her
daughter to speak to her, and warmed her hands with kisses; then, seeing
her still cold and motionless, she was frightened, and wanted to call for
help.

"No; be quiet!" murmured Micheline, recovering. "Let no one know.
I ought to have held my peace; but I have suffered so much I could not
help myself.

"My life is blasted, you see. Take me away; save me from this infamy!
Jeanne, my sister, and Serge. Oh! make me forget it! For pity's sake,
mamma, you who are so strong, you who have always done what you wished,
take from my heart all the pain that is there!"