Jeanne clasped her hands. Her mother seemed to her a saint with a golden glory round her head, winging her way to paradise, and she again stammered: “Oh, mamma! oh! mamma!”
Madame Deberle and Malignon had now grown interested, and had stepped under the trees. Malignon declared the lady to be very bold.
“I should faint, I’m sure,” said Madame Deberle, with a frightened air.
Hélène heard them, for she dropped these words from among the branches: “Oh, my heart is all right! Give a stronger push, Monsieur Rambaud!”
And indeed her voice betrayed no emotion. She seemed to take no heed of the two men who were onlookers. They were doubtless nothing to her. Her tress of hair had become entangled, and the cord that confined her skirts must have given way, for the drapery flapped in the wind like a flag. She was going still higher.
All at once, however, the exclamation rang out:
“Enough, Monsieur Rambaud, enough!”
Doctor Deberle had just appeared on the house steps. He came forward, embraced his wife tenderly, took up Lucien and kissed his brow. Then he gazed at Hélène with a smile.
“Enough, enough!” she still continued exclaiming.
“Why?” asked he. “Do I disturb you?”