"What is the matter with you?" said he, all at once, to Geneviève; "and what makes you so sad to-day?"
Geneviève might have answered, My happiness. She regarded him tenderly.
"But you," said she, "are you not more than usually sad to-day?"
"I," said Maurice, "have reason to be sad,—I am unhappy; but you—"
"You unhappy?"
"Doubtless; do you not perceive sometimes from my tremulous tones how much I suffer? Does it not often happen, when I am talking with you or your husband, I am compelled suddenly to seek the air, because I feel as if my heart would burst?"
"But," demanded Geneviève, embarrassed, "to what do you attribute this suffering?"
"If I were an affected lady," said Maurice, attempting a laugh, "I should say it was a nervous attack."
"And at this moment do you suffer?"