"Forgive me, Agricola! it is true. I had never thought of that," said the workgirl, casting down her eyes; "but poverty—want of work—"
"Misery! want of work! and was I not here?"
"And despair!"
"But why despair? This generous young lady had received you in her house; she knew your worth, and treated you as her friend—and just at the moment when you had every chance of happiness, you leave the house abruptly, and we remain in the most horrible anxiety on your account."
"I feared—to be—to be a burden to my benefactress," stammered she.
"You a burden to Mdlle. de Cardoville, that is so rich and good!"
"I feared to be indiscreet," said the sewing-girl, more and more embarrassed.
Instead of answering his adopted sister, Agricola remained silent, and contemplated her for some moments with an undefinable expression; then he exclaimed suddenly, as if replying to a question put by himself: "She will forgive me for disobeying her.—I am sure of it."
He next turned towards Mother Bunch, who was looking at him in astonishment, and said to her in a voice of emotion: "I am too frank to keep up this deception. I am reproaching you—blaming you—and my thoughts are quite different."
"How so, Agricola?"