“Not so loud!—one word: you are a wife. Swear to me you will not let him see you, come what may.”
“Oh! never! never!” cried Josephine with terror. “I would rather die. When you have heard what he has to say, then tell him I am dead. No, tell him I adore my husband, and went to Egypt this day with him. Ah! would to God I had!”
“Sh! sh!”
“Sh!”
Camille was at the little gate.
Rose stood still, and nerved herself in silence. Josephine panted in her hiding-place.
Rose’s only thought now was to expose the traitor to her sister, and restore her peace. She pretended not to see Camille till he was near her. He came eagerly towards her, his pale face flushing with great joy, and his eyes like diamonds.
“Josephine! It is not Josephine, after all,” said he. “Why, this must be Rose, little Rose, grown up to a fine lady, a beautiful lady.”
“What do you come here for, sir?” asked Rose in a tone of icy indifference.
“What do I come here for? is that the way to speak to me? but I am too happy to mind. Dear Beaurepaire! do I see you once again!”