"She is in earnest. Look at her upper lip!"
"Vous moquez-vous du monde de parler ainsi!"
Throbbed out a Spanish voice, husky and passionate:
"Qué vergüenza! No, no, es imposible!"
"Sure, dear, you'd not be so cruel as to make game of us?"
She stood her ground, firm, but no longer frowning. Her heart swelled, her eyes were heavy with the promise of rain. Her slender arms went out as though she would have embraced them all.
"My dears, it is true! I go to Versailles to rejoin my father. He says to me also—I have his letter here!" ...
Silence fell upon the turbulent crowd as she laid a slender hand on the place where her heart could be seen throbbing. The paper rustled, but she did not draw it forth.
"He says, in this—I am to be married ... soon,—very quickly!"
A Babel of cries, ejaculations, and exclamations broke out about her. A girl's voice, more strident than the rest, shrieked: