"Yes."
"You are not going out?"
"No."
She entered with the air of a woman who knew the house. As soon as she was in the drawing-room, she sank into the sofa, and, covering her face with her hands, began to weep dreadfully.
He knelt down at her feet, seized hold of her hands to remove them from her eyes, so that he might look at them, and exclaim,
"Irene, Irene, what is the matter with you? I implore of you to tell me what is the matter with you?"
Then, in the midst of her sobs she murmured,
"I can no longer live like this."
He did not understand.
"Live like this? What do you mean?"...