Rosalie, motionless, uttered little cries that were almost screams behind her hands. The baron, whose anger was gaining ground, seized her arms, and snatching her hands from her face, he threw her on her knees beside the bed, saying: "Speak! Answer!" She remained on the ground, in the position assigned to Magdalens, her cap awry, her apron on the floor, and her face again covered by her hands. Then the priest said: "Come, my girl, listen to what is said to you, and reply. We do not want to harm you, but we want to know what occurred." Jeanne, leaning over, looked at her and said: "Is it true that you were with Julien when I surprised you?" Rosalie moaned through her fingers, "Yes, madame." Then the baroness suddenly began to cry in a choking fashion, and her convulsive sobs accompanied those of Rosalie. Jeanne, with her eyes fixed on the maid, said: "How long had this been going on?" "Ever since he came here," faltered Rosalie. Jeanne could not understand. "Ever since he came--then--ever since--ever since the spring?" "Yes, madame." "Ever since he came into this house?" "Yes, madame." And Jeanne, as if overflowing with questions, asked, speaking precipitately: "But how did it happen? How did he approach you? How did he persuade you? What did he say? When, how did you ever yield to him? How could you ever have done it?" Rosalie, removing her hands from her face, and overwhelmed also with a feverish desire to speak, said: "How do I know, myself? It was the day he dined here for the first time, and he came up to my room. He had hidden himself in the loft. I did not dare to scream for fear of making a scandal. I no longer knew what I was doing. Then I said nothing because I liked him." Then Jeanne exclaimed with almost a scream: "But--your--your child--is his child?" Rosalie sobbed. "Yes, madame." Then they were both silent. The only sound to be heard was the sobs of Rosalie and of the baroness. Jeanne, quite overcome, felt her tears also beginning to flow; and they fell silently down her cheeks. The maid's child had the same father, as her child! Her anger was at an end; she now was filled with a dreary, slow, profound and infinite despair. She presently resumed in a changed, tearful voice, the voice of a woman who has been crying: "When we returned from--from down there--from our journey--when did he begin again?" The little maid, who had sunk down on the floor, faltered: "The first evening." Each word wrung Jeanne's heart. So on the very first night of their return to the "Poplars" he left her for this girl. That was why he wanted to sleep alone! She now knew all she wanted to know, and exclaimed: "Go away, go away!" And as Rosalie, perfectly crushed, did not stir, Jeanne called to her father: "Take her away, carry her away!" The priest, who had said nothing as yet, thought that the moment had arrived for him to preach a little sermon.