"I see you are pale and changed. Yes, since yesterday you have suffered, and suffered much, I am sure."
"No," replied the young woman, putting her handkerchief to her eyes, "you are mistaken."
"Sophie," said Madeleine, quickly taking her friend's hands in her own, "you do not know how much your lack of confidence distresses me; you will make me think you have some complaint against me."
"What are you saying?" cried Sophie, pained by this suspicion, "you are and you will always be my best friend, and I am only afraid of fatiguing you with my grievances."
"Ah, again?" replied the marquise, in a tone of affectionate reproach.
"Forgive me, forgive me, Madeleine; but really, is it not enough to confide to your friends your real sorrows, without saddening them by the confession of vague apprehensions, which are, nevertheless, very distressing?"
"My dear Sophie, tell me these apprehensions."
"Since yesterday,—but, again, I say no, no, I shall appear too foolish to you."
"You appear foolish to me, well, what of it? Speak, I beseech you."
"Ah, well, it seems to me that since yesterday my husband is under the influence of some idea which completely absorbs him."