Suddenly Rose laid her hand on her sister’s arm, and said to her, with anxiety: “Listen! listen! they are talking very loud in father’s bedroom.”
“Yes,” said Blanche, listening in her turn; “and I can hear him walking. That is his step.”
“Good heaven! how he raises his voice; he seems to be in a great passion; he will perhaps come this way.”
And at the thought of their father’s coming—that father who really adored them—the unhappy children looked in terror at each other. The sound of a loud and angry voice became more and more distinct; and Rose, trembling through all her frame, said to her sister: “Do not let us remain here! Come into our room.”
“Why?”
“We should hear, without designing it, the words of our father—and he does not perhaps know that we are so near.”
“You are right. Come, come!” answered Blanche, as she rose hastily from her seat.
“Oh! I am afraid. I have never heard him speak in so angry a tone.”
“Oh! kind heaven!” said Blanche, growing pale, as she stopped involuntarily. “It is to Dagobert that he is talking so loud.”
“What can be the matter—to make our father speak to him in that way?”