"And why not? Let us hear why not? What security have you—"
Berta did not allow her to finish.
"Our vows," she said.
"Vows!" cried the nurse, crossing herself. "Is that where we are!—Vows!" she repeated, scornfully; "pretty things they are—words that the wind carries away."
Some memory of her own youth must have come to her mind at this moment, for she sighed and then went on:
"And would they by chance be the first vows in the world to be broken? To-day it is all very well; there is no one else for you to see but the neighbor; but to-morrow?"
"Never," replied Berta.
"Worse and worse," returned the nurse; "for in that case he will be the first to tire of you, and then hold him if you can. To-day he may be as sweet as honey to you, but to-morrow it will be another story. What are you going to say? That he is young, and handsome? Silly, silly girl. Is he any the less a man for that? Do you want to know what men are?"
Berta, going up to her nurse, put her hand over her mouth and answered quickly:
"No, I don't want to know."