Then after a few minutes she got up.
"But where are you going, dear ?" asked Hubertine.
The question startled her, as if she herself knew not why she had left her seat.
"I am going upstairs, mother, for I am very tired." In spite of this plausible excuse, Hubertine imagined the true reason that influenced her.

It was the need of being by herself, the haste of communing alone with her great happiness.
When she held her in her arms pressed against her breast, she felt that she was trembling.

She almost seemed to avoid her usual evening kiss.
Looking anxiously in her face, Hubertine read in her eyes the feverish expectation connected with the hoped-for meeting.

It was all so evident to her that she promised herself to keep a close watch.
"Be good, dear, and sleep well." But already, after a hurried good-night to Hubert and to the Abbe Cornille, Angelique was halfway up the stairs, quite disturbed, as she realised that her secret had almost escaped her.

Had her mother held her against her heart one second longer, she would have told her everything.
When she had shut herself in her own room, and doubly locked her door, the light troubled her, and she blew out her candle.