Yet something new, inexplicable, thwarted her and changed the simplicity of her passion.

It was such a simple thing to go to a beloved one; yet she could not possibly do so now, being kept back by a tormenting doubt.
Also, since she had given her promise, perhaps it would be wrong to break it.

In the evening, when the whole "wash" was dry, and Hubertine came to help her to take it to the house, she was still undecided what to do, and concluded to reflect upon it during the night.

With her arms filled to overflowing with linen, white as snow, and smelling fresh and clean, she cast an anxious look towards the Clos-Marie, already bathed in the twilight, as if it were a friendly corner of Nature refusing to be her accomplice.
In the morning Angelique was greatly troubled when she awoke.

Several other nights passed without her having come to any decision.