“What are you thinking of?” she asked.
He turned round and gave a rather melancholy smile, as though aware of his own weakness. “We must go and see them, mustn’t we?” he said.
He was surprised at the effect of his question, for Paule’s face clouded and her eyes were veiled. “So you already find us insufficient for you?” she murmured.
She mastered herself quickly and added determinedly. “I at least shall not go. I was not asked.”
“Yes, you were,” said Marcel.
“Yes, as an afterthought, and Madame Dulaurens made me feel that.”
“My darling Paule, you know that I shall not go without you.”
“Well, then, don’t let us go, will you? Let us stay here. Mother and I love you so much. We are so happy to have you with us and to look after you. Stay with us! The house has been silent as the grave so long, but you have brought the sunshine back to it.”
Madame Guibert joined in, “Marcel, stay with us.”
Marcel’s brow darkened. He did not care to feel that he was deprived of freedom even by his nearest and dearest, and above all he was very much out of sympathy with himself. He had come home quite determined to shut himself up at Le Maupas, to plunge himself in the fragrance of his native air and the memories of those whom he had lost, and also to restore a little happiness to his mother and sister—and now it had taken but one visit from a mere girl to upset all his ideas and to shatter his pride and his strength of will.