Captain de Gartlauben continued to nod his head very politely with an approving air, murmuring:
“To be sure, to be sure—”
Henriette, whose feeling of distress had been increasing, could stand their talk no longer. She could assign no definite reason for the sensation of inquietude that possessed her; it was only a longing to get away, and she rose and left the room quietly in quest of Gilberte, whose absence had been so long protracted. On entering the bedroom, however, she was greatly surprised to find her friend stretched on the lounge, weeping bitterly and manifestly suffering from some extremely painful emotion.
“Why, what is the matter? What has happened you?”
The young woman’s tears flowed faster still and she would not speak, manifesting a confusion that sent every drop of blood coursing from her heart up to her face. At last, throwing herself into the arms that were opened to receive her and concealing her face in the other’s bosom, she stammered:
“Oh, darling if you but knew. I shall never dare to tell you—and yet I have no one but you, you alone perhaps can tell me what is best to do.” A shiver passed through her frame, her voice was scarcely audible. “I was with Edmond—and then—and then Madame Delaherche came into the room and caught me—”
“Caught you! What do you mean?”
“Yes, we were here in the room; he was holding me in his arms and kissing me—” And clasping Henriette convulsively in her trembling arms she told her all. “Oh, my darling, don’t judge me severely; I could not bear it! I know I promised you it should never happen again, but you have seen Edmond, you know how brave he is, how handsome! And think once of the poor young man, wounded, ill, with no one to give him a mother’s care! And then he has never had the enjoyments that wealth affords; his family have pinched themselves to give him an education. I could not be harsh with him.”
Henriette listened, the picture of surprise; she could not recover from her amazement. “What! you don’t mean to say it was the little sergeant! Why, my dear, everyone believes the Prussian to be your lover!”
Gilberte straightened herself up with an indignant air, and dried her eyes. “The Prussian my lover? No, thank you! He’s detestable; I can’t endure him. I wonder what they take me for? What have I ever done that they should suppose I could be guilty of such baseness? No, never! I would rather die than do such a thing!” In the earnestness of her protestations her beauty had assumed an angry and more lofty cast that made her look other than she was. And all at once, sudden as a flash, her coquettish gayety, her thoughtless levity, came back to her face, accompanied by a peal of silvery laughter. “I won’t deny that I amuse myself at his expense. He adores me, and I have only to give him a look to make him obey. You have no idea what fun it is to bamboozle that great big man, who seems to think he will have his reward some day.”