"Germain, love, do you not know me yet?" she answered, returning him a look of affection which profoundly troubled him. He knelt and kissed her hand in silence. "Is not love life itself?" she said, rising with difficulty from her arm-chair. "Let us go without delay and obtain permission," and, taking his hand, led him with steps slow and pitiably uncertain into the presence of the Maréchale.
Madame was seated alone, mumbling to the count of her rosary, but on their appearance dropped it in her lap and resumed her usual bearing of dignity.
"Grand-aunt," began the Baroness, "we have a great boon to ask of you."
"What is it, Baroness?" she said.
"Grand-aunt," Cyrène repeated falteringly, "have you ever known what it is to love?"
The question astonished Madame l'Etiquette. For a moment it seemed as if a slight mounting of the blood to her wrinkled cheeks was visible. In the next her features resumed their stiffness, and she answered, "Tush! that is the business of citizenesses."
"You too have had your dream; I have heard of it," Cyrène persisted. "Women are women, whatever their sphere."
"Say illusion, perhaps, not dream; but the subject must cease. What do you want of me after this very malàpropos preface?"
"I ask you to consent to our immediate marriage," Cyrène said with desperate directness, and tremblingly taking the chair which Germain proffered, sat down with white face, watching Madame de Noailles anxiously.
The latter did not reply.