"There is some secret, I am sure," exclaimed Marie-Rose from behind her. "I do not ask what it is, I am accustomed at home to be left to myself. But still I cannot help seeing what is going on; only yesterday, after mass, you and François went off by yourselves to read some paper in the lane by the Michelonnes, I was there to fetch my money, and saw you gesticulating.... And now you are crying. It is hard, Eléonore, to see one's sister cry and not to know the reason--not to be able to say one word to comfort her." To Rousille's intense surprise, Eléonore, without turning, held out a trembling hand towards her, and drew her younger sister tumultuously to her beating heart; and for the first time for many years, overcome with emotion, she leant her cheek on Rousille's, then suddenly broke out into sobs. "Yes," she sobbed, "there is a secret, my poor Rousille, such a secret that I can never have the like again in all my life. I cannot tell it to you ... it is there in the letter ... but François must read it first, and then father--Heavens! what an unhappy girl I am!" Tenderly Rousille pressed her face against her sister's all bathed in tears. "But the secret, Eléonore, it only concerns François, does it?" "No, me too; me too! Oh, when you hear it, Rousille.... It was François who persuaded me, he talked until I yielded ... and then I signed ... and now it is all done. Still, were it not for him, I feel that even now I could not do it; I would break the agreement--I would refuse." "You are going, Eléonore?" cried the girl, drawing back. Her sister's white face was the only answer. "You are going?" she repeated. "Oh, where? Oh, do not leave us." Eléonore, stupefied for the moment, now gave way to a feeling of anger, and repulsed the girl whom the instant before she had drawn to her. "Hold your tongue!" she said roughly. "Do not talk like that. Are you going to tell tales of us?" "I have no wish to do so." "They are coming. You heard them. You said it aloud for them to hear, you sneak!" "Indeed, I did not." "They are coming. Hark!" The distant footsteps of the men, one following the other, were audible. They were returning for the mid-day meal. Eléonore, in terror, almost suppliant, her voice shaken with emotion, ejaculated: "Mathurin is coming first--if only he did not hear what you were saying, Rousille. If he catches sight of me, he will guess everything.... I dare not go back into the house with such red eyes. You take my place. Go and pour out the soup, I will be with you in a moment."