And to this irresistible desire to know was also superadded a strange longing to suffer more intensely, to roll herself about in her misery, as she might have rolled herself on thorns, the mysterious longing, morbid and feverish, of a martyr calling for fresh pain.
So she faltered: "Yes, I have no objection. Bring me Madame Honorat."
Then, suddenly, she felt that she could not wait any longer without making sure, quite sure, of this treason; and she asked William in a voice weak as a breath:
"Is it true that M. Bretigny is getting married?"
He replied calmly: "Yes, it is true. We would have told you before this if we could have talked with you."
She continued: "With Charlotte?"
"With Charlotte."
Now William had also a fixed idea himself which from this time forth never left him—his daughter, as yet barely alive, whom every moment he was going to look at. He felt indignant because Christiane's first words were not to ask for the baby; and in a tone of gentle reproach: "Well, look here! you have not yet inquired about the little one. You are aware that she is going on very well?"
She trembled as if he had touched a living wound; but it was necessary for her to pass through all the stations of this Calvary.
"Bring her here," she said.