'Ah,' cried Céleste, weeping, 'can it be true? Can it be true?'
'Of course, since monsieur the notary says so.'
'Ah, madam; let me run and see monsieur the notary. Let me just ask him, and hear from his lips that it is true!'
So she ran out into the town, with her apron over her head, and Marie made the breakfast.
The Russian lady came down to talk it over. 'The pretty child is distraught, and at so small a piece of good fortune!' said she.
But when Céleste came in she was more composed. 'It is true,' she said, with gentle joy, and she stood before them breathless and blushing.
'It will be three years before you are twenty-one,' said Madame Verine; 'you will remain with me.'
'If you please, madam, no,' said Céleste, modestly casting down her eyes; 'I must go to my native village.'
'How!' they cried. 'To whom will you go?'
Céleste blushed the more deeply, and twisted her apron. 'I have good clothes; I have saved my year's wages. I will put up at the inn. The wife of the innkeeper will be a mother to me now I can pay for my lodging.'