Then, forgetting all her plans and prepared phrases, the young girl hid her face in both hands and stammered:
"Oh! mamma! Oh! mamma!"
Madame Obardi stood by the bed, too much affected thoroughly to understand, but guessing almost everything, with that subtile instinct whence she derived her strength. As Yvette could not speak, choked with tears, her mother, worn out finally and feeling some fearful explanation coming, brusquely asked:
"Come, will you tell me what the matter is?"
Yvette could hardly utter the words: "Oh! last night—I saw—your window."
The Marquise, very pale; said: "Well? what of it?"
Her daughter repeated, still sobbing: "Oh! mamma! Oh! mamma!"
Madame Obardi, whose fear and embarrassment turned to anger, shrugged her shoulders and turned to go. "I really believe that you are crazy. When this ends, you will let me know."
But the young girl, suddenly took her hands from her face, which was streaming with tears.
"No, listen, I must speak to you, listen. You must promise me—we must both go, away, very far off, into the country, and we must live like the country people; and no one must know what has become of us. Say you will, mamma; I beg you, I implore you; will you?"