Well now, speak out; you've come to tell me something." "No, no, I swear I haven't," he blurted out.

But he was choking with suffering, and this sickroom, into which he had suddenly entered unawares, so worked on his feelings that he burst out sobbing and buried his face in the bedclothes to smother the violence of his grief.

Nana understood.

Rose Mignon had most assuredly decided to send the letter.
She let him weep for some moments, and he was shaken by convulsions so fierce that the bed trembled under her.

At length in accents of motherly compassion she queried: "You've had bothers at your home ?" He nodded affirmatively.