At this moment Madame des Grassins was announced. She came incited by vengeance and the sense of a great despair.
“Mademoiselle,” she said—“Ah! here is monsieur le cure; I am silent. I came to speak to you on business; but I see that you are conferring with—”
“Madame,” said the cure, “I leave the field to you.”
“Oh! monsieur le cure,” said Eugenie, “come back later; your support is very necessary to me just now.”
“Ah, yes, indeed, my poor child!” said Madame des Grassins.
“What do you mean?” asked Eugenie and the cure together.
“Don’t I know about your cousin’s return, and his marriage with Mademoiselle d’Aubrion? A woman doesn’t carry her wits in her pocket.”
Eugenie blushed, and remained silent for a moment. From this day forth she assumed the impassible countenance for which her father had been so remarkable.
“Well, madame,” she presently said, ironically, “no doubt I carry my wits in my pocket, for I do not understand you. Speak, say what you mean, before monsieur le cure; you know he is my director.”
“Well, then, mademoiselle, here is what des Grassins writes me. Read it.”