The sun had risen. The servants were stirring about the house. The chambermaid came with the chocolate. Yvette put the tray on the table and said:
"You will say to my mother that I am not well, that I am going to stay in bed until those gentlemen leave, that I could not sleep last night, and that I do not want to be disturbed because I am going to try to rest."
The servant, surprised, looked at the wet dress, which had fallen like a rag on the carpet.
"So Mademoiselle has been out?" she said.
"Yes, I went out for a walk in the rain to refresh myself."
The maid picked up the skirts, stockings, and wet shoes; then she went away carrying on her arm, with fastidious precautions, these garments, soaked as the clothes of a drowned person. And Yvette waited, well knowing that her mother would come to her.
The Marquise entered, having jumped from her bed at the first words of the chambermaid, for a suspicion had possessed her, heart since that cry: "Mamma!" heard in the dark.
"What is the matter?" she said.
Yvette looked at her and stammered: "I—I—" Then overpowered by a sudden and terrible emotion, she began to choke.
The Marquise, astonished, again asked: "What in the world is the matter with you?"