“Lord God!  Send them strength!  Shed Thy mercy upon them.”

And Marguerite began to speak.  The words issued from her lips one by one—­hoarse, jerky, tremulous.

“Pardon, pardon, sister! pardon me!  Oh, if only you knew how I have dreaded this moment all my life!”

Suzanne faltered through her tears: 

“But what have I to pardon, little one?  You have given me everything, sacrificed all to me.  You are an angel.”

But Marguerite interrupted her: 

“Be silent, be silent!  Let me speak!  Don’t stop me!  It is terrible.  Let me tell all, to the very end, without interruption.  Listen.  You remember—­you remember—­Henry—­”

Suzanne trembled and looked at her sister.  The younger one went on: 

“In order to understand you must hear everything.  I was twelve years old—­only twelve—­you remember, don’t you?  And I was spoilt; I did just as I pleased.  You remember how everybody spoilt me?  Listen.  The first time he came he had on his riding boots; he dismounted, saying that he had a message for father.  You remember, don’t you?  Don’t speak.  Listen.  When I saw him I was struck with admiration.  I thought him so handsome, and I stayed in a corner of the drawing-room all the time he was talking.  Children are strange—­and terrible.  Yes, indeed, I dreamt of him.

“He came again—­many times.  I looked at him with all my eyes, all my heart.  I was large for my age and much more precocious than—­any one suspected.  He came often.  I thought only of him.  I often whispered to myself: 

“‘Henry-Henry de Sampierre!’

“Then I was told that he was going to marry you.  That was a blow!  Oh, sister, a terrible blow—­terrible!  I wept all through three sleepless nights.

“He came every afternoon after lunch.  You remember, don’t you?  Don’t answer.  Listen.  You used to make cakes that he was very fond of—­with flour, butter and milk.  Oh, I know how to make them.  I could make them still, if necessary.  He would swallow them at one mouthful and wash them down with a glass of wine, saying:  ‘Delicious!’ Do you remember the way he said it?

“I was jealous—­jealous!  Your wedding day was drawing near.  It was only a fortnight distant.  I was distracted.  I said to myself:  ’He shall not marry Suzanne—­no, he shall not!  He shall marry me when I am old enough!  I shall never love any one half so much.’  But one evening, ten days before the wedding, you went for a stroll with him in the moonlight before the house—­and yonder—­under the pine tree, the big pine tree—­he kissed you—­kissed you—­and held you in his arms so long—­so long!  You remember, don’t you?  It was probably the first time.  You were so pale when you came back to the drawing-room!

“I saw you.  I was there in the shrubbery.  I was mad with rage!  I would have killed you both if I could!

“I said to myself:  ’He shall never marry Suzanne—­never!  He shall marry no one!  I could not bear it.’  And all at once I began to hate him intensely.