“Will you find happiness here?” murmured her mother, sadly, drawing her daughter to her. “There is none left for me, since your poor father is dead; but you, my pet, my dear, loving Gilberte, what has the future in store for you?”
“Why, joys, mother darling, nothing but the greatest joys: haven’t I you with me?”
They exchanged a long embrace. Then Mme. Armand said:
“Gilberte, the crossing has upset me; I feel I must lie down for a while. Go and sit on the terrace and come back in an hour. Then we will unpack our trunks and go to the post-office.”
“Are you expecting a letter?”
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
“Oh, mummy, you’re always saying that! But are you sure that it’s not you who are a little—what shall I say—mysterious? You never answer even my simplest questions.”
“I shall answer them one day, child, but not before I have to ... not before I have to.”