Tenderly Rousille pressed her face against her sister's all bathed in tears.
"But the secret, Eléonore, it only concerns François, does it?"
"No, me too; me too! Oh, when you hear it, Rousille.... It was François who persuaded me, he talked until I yielded ... and then I signed ... and now it is all done. Still, were it not for him, I feel that even now I could not do it; I would break the agreement—I would refuse."
"You are going, Eléonore?" cried the girl, drawing back.
Her sister's white face was the only answer.
"You are going?" she repeated. "Oh, where? Oh, do not leave us."
Eléonore, stupefied for the moment, now gave way to a feeling of anger, and repulsed the girl whom the instant before she had drawn to her.
"Hold your tongue!" she said roughly. "Do not talk like that. Are you going to tell tales of us?"
"I have no wish to do so."
"They are coming. You heard them. You said it aloud for them to hear, you sneak!"