"No doubt they were Madame the Marquise, and Mademoiselle Céleste, the daughter," said Madame Munier.
There was a little time of silence, and then Oliver gave his mother that second shock, a shock such as the poor woman never had in her life before.
"Mother," said he, "I love Mademoiselle Céleste."
Madame Munier opened her eyes and mouth as wide as she was able. "You what?" she cried.
"I love Mademoiselle Céleste," said Oliver: it was delicious to repeat those words.
Madame Munier looked slowly all about her, as though she had dropped from the moon, and knew not as yet where she was. "He loves Mademoiselle Céleste!" she repeated to herself.
"Yes," said Oliver; "I love her."
"He loves her!" said Madame Munier, mechanically. "He is mad!"
