Poor Nina! Each day spent in the service of Madeleine seemed to have aged her a year.
Tears had dimmed the brilliancy of her beautiful black eyes; her rosy cheeks were pale and hollow, and her merry smile was quite gone.
Poor Gypsy, once so gay and spirited, now crushed beneath the burden of her sorrows, was the picture of misery.
Prosper thought that, wild with joy at seeing him, and proud of having so nobly devoted herself to his interest, Nina would throw her arms around his neck, and say how much she loved him. To his surprise, Nina scarcely spoke to him. Although his every thought had been devoted to Madeleine since he discovered the reasons for her cruelty, he was hurt by Nina’s cold manner.
The girl stood looking at M. Verduret with a mixture of fear and devotion, like a poor dog that has been cruelly treated by its master.
He, however, was kind and gentle in his manner toward her.
“Well, my dear,” he said encouragingly, “what news do you bring me?”
“Something is going on at the house, monsieur, and I have been trying to get here to tell you; at last, Mlle. Madeleine made an excuse for sending me out.”
“You must thank Mlle. Madeleine for her confidence in me. I suppose she carried out the plan we decided upon?”
“Yes, monsieur.”