Full of respectful solicitude now, Justine helped her young mistress to dress, when she again began to tremble.
“Justine, I dare not,” she faltered.
“Would miladi prefer to be accompany by her own maid Preen?”
“No, no, Justine,” cried Maude, hastily, “I dare not trust her.”
“Ma foi, non! miladi is right. She will trust Justine, her ladyship’s confidential maid, who keep her ladyship’s secret, and will be so silent and secret as never was for cette chère young mistress in her big trouble.”
“I will trust you, Justine; I am obliged,” sobbed Maude.
“And not trust, ze foolish girl goose who fall in love wis ze mis-er-rable organ grind. My faith, it is so foolish, though ze man is beau.”
“Yes, very handsome,” sighed Maude, thoughtfully.
“Ah, Justine, I cannot be angry with the poor girl for being in love.”
“Ma foi, non, miladi, it is our nature to have our weakness there. I too, I confess to it all. Yais.”