She uttered these words with measured gravity, raising her hand a little.
"We will help you, Dorothy," declared the Countess. "For I hope that you won't leave us.... Here you are at home."
Dorothy shook her head. "You are too kind, madame."
"It isn't kindness: it's affection. You won my heart at first sight, and I beg you to be my friend."
"I am, madame—wholly your friend. But——"
"What? You refuse?" exclaimed the Count de Chagny in a tone of vexation. "We offer the daughter of Jean d'Argonne, our cousin, a life befitting her name and birth and you prefer to go back to that wretched existence!"
"It is not wretched, I assure you, monsieur. My four children and I are used to it. Their health demands it."
The Countess insisted: "But we can't allow it—really! You're going to stay with us at least some days; and from this evening you will dine and sleep at the château."
"I beg you to excuse me, madame. I'm rather tired.... I want to be alone."
In truth she appeared of a sudden to be worn out with fatigue. One would never have supposed that a smile could animate that drawn, dejected face.