“Yes, yes! but this evening?”
“After her dinner, madame went into the drawing-room as usual. She sat down and took up one of M. Noel’s newspapers. Scarcely had she begun to read, when she uttered a great cry,—oh, a terrible cry! We hastened to her; madame had fallen on to the floor, as one dead. M. Noel raised her in his arms, and carried her into her room. I wanted to fetch the doctor, sir, but he said there was no need; he knew what was the matter with her.”
“And how is she now?”
“She has come to her senses; that is to say, I suppose so; for M. Noel made me leave the room. All that I do know is, that a little while ago she was talking, and talking very loudly too, for I heard her. Ah, sir, it is all the same, very strange!”
“What is strange?”
“What I heard Madame Gerdy say to M. Noel.”
“Ah ha! my girl!” sneered old Tabaret; “so you listen at key-holes, do you?”
“No, sir, I assure you; but madame cried out like one lost. She said,—”
“My girl!” interrupted old Tabaret severely, “one always hears wrong through key-holes. Ask Manette if that is not so.”
The poor girl, thoroughly confused, sought to excuse herself.