And so have you, Rose." "Me, mamma! what DO you mean ?" The baroness's pale cheek flushed a little.

"I mean," said she, "that my patience is worn out at last; I cannot live surrounded by secrets.
Raynal's gloomy looks when he left us, after staying but one hour; Josephine ill from that day, and bursting into tears at every word; yourself pale and changed, hiding an unaccountable sadness under forced smiles--Now, don't interrupt me.

Edouard, who was almost like a son, gone off, without a word, and never comes near us now." "Really you are ingenious in tormenting yourself.

Josephine is ill! Well, is it so very strange?
Have you never been ill?
Rose is pale! you ARE pale, my dear; but she has nursed her sister for a month; is it a wonder she has lost color?
Edouard is gone a journey, to inherit his uncle's property: a million francs.

But don't you go and fall ill, like Josephine; turn pale, like Rose; and make journeys in the region of fancy, after Edouard Riviere, who is tramping along on the vulgar high road." This tirade came from Aubertin, and very clever he thought himself.
But he had to do with a shrewd old lady, whose suspicions had long smouldered; and now burst out.