“Who, dear?”
Geneviève shook her head with an incredulous air. “Don't tell falsehoods, I beg of you. Do me the favour of setting my doubts at rest. You must know, I feel it. Yes, you have been this girl's comrade, and I've seen Colomban run after you, and talk to her in a low voice. He was giving you messages for her, wasn't he? Oh! for pity's sake, tell me the truth; I assure you it will do me good.”
Never had Denise been in such an awkward position. She lowered her eyes before this almost dumb girl, who yet guessed all. However, she had the strength to deceive her still. “But it's you he loves!”
Geneviève turned away in despair. “Very well, you won't tell me anything. However, I don't care, I've seen them. He's continually going outside to look at her. She, upstairs, laughs like a bad woman. Of course they meet out of doors.”
“As for that, no, I assure you!” exclaimed Denise, forgetting herself, carried away by the desire to give her, at least, that consolation.
The young girl drew a long breath, and smiled feebly. Then with the weak voice of a convalescent: “I should like a glass of water. Excuse me if I trouble you. Look, over there in the sideboard.”
When she got hold of the bottle, she drank a large glassful right off, keeping Denise away with one hand, the latter being afraid Geneviève might do herself harm.
“No, no, let me be; I'm always thirsty. In the night I get up to drink.” There was a fresh silence. Then she went on again quietly: “If you only knew, I've been accustomed to the idea of this marriage for the last ten years. I was still wearing short dresses, when Colomban was courting me. I hardly remember how things have come about By always living together, being shut up here together, without any other distractions between us, I must have ended by believing him to be my husband before he really was. I didn't know whether I loved him. I was his wife, and that's all. And now he wants to go off with another girl! Oh, heavens! my heart is breaking! You see, it's a grief that I've never felt before. It hurts me in the bosom, and in the head; then it spreads every where, and is killing me.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Denise, whose eyelids were also wet with pity, asked her: “Does my aunt suspect anything?”
“Yes, mamma has her suspicions, I think. As to papa, he is too worried, and does not know the pain he is causing me by postponing this marriage. Mamma has questioned me several times, greatly alarmed to see me pining away. She has never been very strong herself, and has often said: 'My poor child, I've not made you very strong.' Besides, one doesn't grow much in these shops. But she must find me getting really too thin now. Look at my arms; would you believe it?”