I looked at her in astonishment.
"Eh, bien! my child," I returned—"and it is thus you take such happy news?"
"Ah, mon Dieu!" sobbed the little maid—"it is—true—I—have no luck."
"What is the matter Suzette—tell me?" I pleaded. Never had I seen her so brokenhearted, even on the day she smashed the mirror.
I saw her sway toward me like the child she was.
"There—there—mais voyons!" I exclaimed in a vain effort to stop her tears—"mais voyons! Come, you must not cry like that." Little by little she ceased crying, until her sobbing gave way to brave little hiccoughs, then, at length, she opened her eyes.
"Suzette," I whispered—the thought flashing through my mind, "is it possible that you love Monsieur Tanrade?"
I saw her strong little body tremble: "No, monsieur," she breathed, and the tears fell afresh.
"Tell me the truth, Suzette."