Gradually the hysteric emotion spent itself, and Madame Patoff grew more calm. Then she spoke, and, to Hermione's amazement, she spoke connectedly.
"Hermione, you must not betray my secret,—you will not betray me? Swear that you will not, my child!" She was evidently suffering some great emotion.
"Aunt Annie," said Hermione in the greatest excitement, "you are not mad! I always said you were not!"
Madame Patoff shook her head sorrowfully.
"No, child, I am not mad,—I never was. I am only unhappy. I let them think so, because I am so miserable, and I can live alone, and perhaps die very soon. But you have found me out."
Again it seemed as though she would burst into tears. Hermione hastened to reassure her, not knowing what she said, in the anxiety of the moment.
"You are safe with me, aunt Annie. I will not tell. But why, why have you deceived them all so long, a year and a half,—why?"
"I am the most wretched woman alive," moaned Madame Patoff. Then, looking suddenly into Hermione's eyes, she spoke in low, distinct tones. "You cannot marry Paul, Hermione. You must never think of it again. You must promise me never to think of it."
"I will not promise that," answered the young girl, summoning all her courage. "It is not true that he killed his brother. You never believed it,—nobody ever believed it!"
"It is true—true—truer than anything else can be!" exclaimed Madame Patoff, lowering her voice to a strong, clear whisper.