"Everybody is well, very well, as I've told you before."
"And M. Cloarek?"
"There is no use in asking me so many questions. I sha'n't answer them. By and by, when you are really better, it will be different."
"Listen, aunt. You refuse to answer me for fear of agitating me too much, but I swear to you that the uncertainty I am in concerning Mlle. Sabine and M. Cloarek makes me miserable."
"Everybody is getting on very well, I tell you."
"No, aunt, no, that is impossible, after the terrible and still inexplicable occurrence that—"
"But, my dear nephew, I assure you—Come, come, don't be so impatient. Can't you be a little more reasonable? Calm yourself, Onésime, I beg of you!"
"Is it my fault? Why will you persist in keeping me in such a state of suspense?"
"Don't I keep telling you that everybody is well?"
"But I tell you that is impossible," exclaimed the young man, excitedly. "What! do you mean to tell me that Mlle. Sabine, who starts and trembles at the slightest sound, could see her home invaded by a furious band of armed men, without sustaining a terrible, perhaps fatal, shock?"