She covered her face.

The husband had turned round; he was looking eagerly at the notary and at his cowering bride.
'Ah, Heaven!' cried the two matrons, 'must it be ?' 'I have walked so far to advise,' said the notary.
All this time Marie was sitting upon the piano-stool; she had turned it half-way round so that she could look at the people.

She was not pretty, but, as the morning light struck full upon her face, she had the comeliness that youth and health always must have; and more than that, there was the light of a beautiful soul shining through her eyes, for Marie was gentle and submissive, but her mind and spirit were also strong; the individual character that had grown in silence now began to assert itself with all the beauty of a new thing in the world.

Marie had never acted for herself before.
She began to speak to the notary simply, eagerly, as one who could no longer keep silence.
'It would be wrong to separate them, monsieur.' Madame Verine chid Marie; the notary, no doubt just because he was a man and polite, answered her.
'This brave young fellow does not deserve to be thus fooled.

I shall be glad to lend him my aid to extricate himself.' 'He does deserve it,' cried Marie.