"Foolish girl that you are!" she cried, springing to Bertha's neck; "let me finish what I have to say."
"Did you not tell me that he spoke of love?" replied the suffering creature.
"Yes; but I did not tell you whom he loves."
Mary had not the strength to reply in words; she made a sign of acquiescence with her head.
Bertha breathed heavily, passed her hand several times over her burning forehead. The shock had been too violent to allow her to recover instantly her normal condition.
"Mary," she said, "what you have just told me seems so unlikely, so impossible, that you must swear it. Swear to me--" She hesitated.
"I will swear what you will, sister," said Mary, who was eager herself to put some insurmountable barrier between her heart and her love.
"Swear to me that Michel does not love you, and that you do not love him." She laid her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Swear it by our mother's grave."
"I swear, by the grave of our mother," said Mary, resolutely, "that I will never marry Michel."
She threw herself into her sister's arms, seeking compensation for her sacrifice in the caresses the latter gave her. If the room had been less dark Bertha might have seen on Mary's features the anguish that oath had cost her. As it was, it restored all Bertha's calmness. She sighed gently, as though her heart were lightened of a heavy weight.
"Thank you!" she said; "oh, thank you! thank you! Now let us return to the salon."
But, half-way down, Mary made an excuse to go to her room. There she locked herself in to pray and weep.
The company had not yet left the supper-table. As Bertha crossed the vestibule to reach the salon she heard bursts of laughter from the guests.
When she entered the salon Monsieur Loriot was arguing with the young baron, endeavoring to persuade him that it was his interest as well as his duty to return to La Logerie. But the negative silence of the young man was so eloquent that the notary presently found himself at the end of his arguments. It is true, however, that he had been talking for half an hour.
Michel was probably not less embarrassed than the notary himself, and he welcomed Bertha as a battalion formed in a hollow square and attacked on all sides welcomes an auxiliary who will strengthen its defence. He sprang to meet her with an eagerness which owed as much to his present difficulty as to the closing scene of his interview with Mary.