"Why, what ees eet posseeble to do? I moos go to ma maitresse."
"But-but what'll become of me?" mourned Zac. "I may never see you again."
Margot sighed. "I moos go to ma maitresse," she murmured.
"O, don't! don't now!" cried Zac. "She ain't half as fond of you as me. She can take care of herself. The priest'll watch over her. O, don't go, don't! I declar I feel like droundin' myself at the bare idee."
Zac, upon this, seized her hand, and begged, and coaxed, and prayed her to stay; till poor little Margot began to cry bitterly, and could only plead in broken tones her love for her dear mistress, who was in such danger, and how base it would be to desert her at such a time.
"Wal, wal—would you—would you come with me if—if it warn't for her?" mourned Zac.
Margot looked up at his face with a slight smile shining through her tears, which seemed to reassure poor Zac.
"We sall meet again," said Margot, in a more cheerful voice.
Zac shook his head disconsolately.
"And so, adieu," said Margot, in a low voice.