One evening she had passed through it on his arm, and who could tell but he might suddenly now open it and come to take her as she applied herself to her work in the midst of the frothy foam that at times almost covered her.
But the next day, as the _mere_ Gabet brought the last barrow of linen, which she spread out on the grass with Angelique, she interrupted her interminable chattering upon the gossip of the neighbourhood to say maliciously: "By the way, you know that Monseigneur is to marry his son ?" The young girl, who was just smoothing out a sheet, knelt down in the grass, her strength leaving her all at once, from the rudeness of the shock.
"Yes, everyone is talking of it.

The son of Monseigneur will in the autumn marry Mademoiselle de Voincourt.

It seems that everything was decided upon and arranged yesterday." She remained on her knees, as a flood of confused ideas passed through her brain, and a strange humming was in her ears.

She was not at all surprised at the news, and she realised it must be true.

Her mother had already warned her, so she ought to have been prepared for it.