She no longer knew that she was a mother, and was speaking to her daughter.

The woman, the _amorosa_, alone remained in her, outraged and exasperated by a rival.

And with a sob she confessed the truth: "It is I he loves! Only the last time I spoke to him, he swore to me--you hear me ?--he swore upon his honour that he did not love you, and that he would never marry you!" A faint, sharp laugh came from Camille.

Then, with an air of derisive compassion, she replied: "Ah! my poor mamma, you really make me sorry for you! What a child you are! Yes, really, you are the child, not I.What! you who ought to have so much experience, you still allow yourself to be duped by a man's protests! That one really has no malice; and, indeed, that's why he swears whatever you want him to swear, just to please and quiet you, for at heart he's a bit of a coward." "You lie, you lie!" "But just think matters over.

If he no longer comes here, if he didn't come to _dejeuner_ this morning, it is simply because he's had enough of you.