Adolphine was in her room, working at her embroidery frame; Madeleine was hovering about her mistress, pretending to arrange the furniture. Madeleine was an excellent girl, who had divined that her mistress was in love. She had noticed that she never smiled or seemed happy, except when Gustave came to see her; but she had heard it said that he was going to marry her mistress's sister, whereupon Adolphine had become more melancholy than ever. Later, it was said that the marriage was broken off, and yet Adolphine never smiled; to be sure, the young man who always brought a smile to her lips had ceased to come.
Madeleine would have been glad to have her young mistress confide her secret to her; but she confined in the lowest depths of her heart a passion which she believed to be well hidden. However, the maid succeeded occasionally, by dint of beating about the bush, in extorting a few words, which she made the most of.
"Mamzelle," said Madeleine, "isn't it very strange that madame your sister never comes to see you now?"
"My father was angry with her, you know."
"That didn't prevent her coming here when she wanted to find out who had had the audacity to fight with her count. She was sure it was Monsieur Gustave. But you told her she was mistaken, and you were right. Why should Monsieur Gustave fight for her, I should like to know, when she keeps making sport of him? A man doesn't fight, except for a person he loves; and I am very sure, for my part, that Monsieur Gustave never gives your sister a thought now."
"You think not, Madeleine?"
This question was asked with an eagerness which would have betrayed Adolphine's secret, if her maid had not already guessed it.
"But Fanny isn't married!" murmured Adolphine sadly, a moment later.
"Well, mamzelle, for my part, I am glad of it! She'd have kicked up altogether too much dust if she had been a countess."
"But when will Gustave come back?"