With something like a moan Christine freed herself from the girl, and went rapidly on:
“I did not know just where your father was, for he was never long in the same place, and as we could not wait to hear from him, and I did not know what to do, strangers took the matter in hand and buried her in the Protestant grave-yard at Rome, where you father has never been since.”
“And I?” Reinette said. “You took me to him?”
“Yes, I took you to Chateau des Fleurs,” Christine replied, while her face grew scarlet and then turned ashen pale, and Queenie never dreamed of the chasm which she leaped in silence, or of the bitter remorse which brought those livid spots to the face of Christine, who did not look at her now, but shut her eyes and leaned wearily back in her chair.
“I am so weak, and talking all this tires me so,” she said; but Reinette was not satisfied, and her next question was:
“What did father say when he first saw me?”
Christine did not reply to this, but sat with her hands locked together, and a look upon her face as if she was living over some painful scene.
“Tell me; how did he act? What did he say?” Reinette repeated, and then, with a smile full of irony and bitterness Christine answered:
“He swore because you were not a boy!”
“Oh-h! this is terrible,” Reinette exclaimed, as her face grew very red.