"Your brother—or me?"
This was, then, the truth, the frightful truth that she had never wished to see.
She stayed there until the noises in the street warned her that it was getting late, and she might be surprised. Then she returned to her mother.
"I am going out," she said; "I will return at half-past eight or nine o'clock."
"But your husband will not see you before going to the hospital."
"You will tell him that I have gone out."
She returned at half-past nine. Madame Cormier had finished dressing.
"At last you have come," she said.
But at sight of her daughter's face she saw that something had happened.
"My God! What is the matter?" she asked, trembling.
"Something serious—very serious, but unfortunately it is irreparable.
We must leave here, never to return."