She woke with a start, all pale and trembling; she tried nevertheless to assume the most innocent and the calmest air.
—What is the matter, papa?
But Durand did not answer. He surveyed the room with a scrutinizing eye, apparently, interrogating the furniture and the walls, as if he were asking them if they had not been witnesses of some unusual event.
But if walls at times have eyes and ears, they have no tongue; they cannot relate the things they have seen. Then he turned towards his daughter in such a singular way that Suzanne dropped her eyes and felt she was going to faint.
—Suzanne, he demanded of her abruptly, did you hear anything in the night?
—I! she said with the most profound astonishment.
—Yes, you, Suzanne. It seems to me that I am speaking to you. Did you hear anything in the night?
She thought she saw at first that her father knew nothing, and, in spite of herself, a long sigh of relief escaped her breast; therefore she replied with the most natural air in the world:
—What do you mean that I have heard, father?
—Something has happened, my daughter, this very night, in the garden, said
Durand, scanning his words, something extraordinary.