At the same time, and without appearing to be able to help herself, her lips sought Marcel’s neck, and she kissed him with a delirious rapture.
“Then it was not you who summoned me?”
“I! Grand Dieu! I would give ten years of my life if you were anywhere but in this house at this moment. Ah! the wretches! They have deceived me!”
“Who are the wretches you speak of?” asked Marcel, firmly.
“Ah! Do not question me! I cannot, must not, speak!”
“Are you jesting?” said Marcel, ironically.
“Poor child! You do not know them!”
“Madame, is your brother among them?”
She laid her hands on his mouth, those beautiful white hands, and he remained silent. Then, clasping him to her breast with passionate ardour, her eyes filled with tears—she stammered out—
“Oh! Marcel, Marcel!”