lmost shrieks. The baron, losing all
patience with her, seized her hands, drew them roughly from her face and
threw her on her knees beside the bed, saying:

"Why don't you say something? Answer your mistress."

She crouched down on the ground in the position in which Mary Magdalene
is generally depicted; her cap was on one side, her apron on the floor,
and as soon as her hands were free she again buried her face in them.

"Come, come, my girl," said the cure, "we don't want to do you any harm,
but we must know exactly what has happened. Now listen to what is asked
you and answer truthfully."

Jeanne was leaning over the side of the bed, looking at the girl.

"Is it not true that I found you in Julien's bed?" she asked.

"Yes, madame," moaned out Rosalie through her fingers.

At that the baroness burst into tears also, and the sound of her sobs
mingled with the maid's.

"How long had that gone on?" asked Jeanne, her eyes fixed on the maid.

"Ever since he came here," stammered Rosalie.

"Since he came here," repeated Jeanne, hardly understanding what the
words meant. "Do you mean since--since the spring?"

"Yes, madame."

"Since he first came to the house?"

"Yes, madame."

"But how did it happen? How did he come to say anything to you about
it?" burst out Jeanne, as if she could keep back the questions no
longer. "Did he force you, or did you give yourself to him? How could
you do such a thing?"

"I don't know," answered Rosalie, taking her hands from her face and
speaking as if the words were forced from her by an irresistible desire
to talk and to tell all. "The day he dined 'ere for the first time, 'e
came up to my room. He 'ad 'idden in the garret and I dursn't cry out
for fear of what everyone would say. He got into my bed, and I dunno'
how it was or what I did, but he did just as 'e liked with me. I never
said nothin' about it because I thought he was nice."

"But your--your child? Is it his?" cried Jeanne.

"Yes, madame," answered Rosalie, between her sobs. Then neither said
anything more, and the silence was only broken by the baroness's and
Rosalie's sobs.

The tears rose to Jeanne's eyes, and flowed noiselessly down her cheeks.
So her maid's child had the same father as her own! All her anger had
evaporated and in its place was a dull, gloomy, deep despair. After a
short silence she said in a softer, tearful voice.

"After we returned from--from our wedding tour--when did he begin
agai