“Do so; I will go to my father,”
“What is it?” said Jeanne, when Diana was gone; “you look rather gloomy.”
“Why, yes.”
“What has happened?”
“Oh, mon Dieu! an accident.”
“To you?”
“Not precisely to me, but to a person who was near me.”
“Who was it?”
“The person I was walking with.”
“M. de Monsoreau?”