“Bettina, my darling, what is the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing! it is nothing, it is joy—­joy!”

“Joy?”

“Yes, yes, wait—­let me cry a little, it will do me so much good.  But do not be frightened, do not be frightened.”

Beneath her sister’s caress, Bettina grew calm, soothed.

“It is over, I am better now, and I can talk to you.  It is about Jean.”

“Jean!  You call him Jean?”

“Yes, I call him Jean.  Have you not noticed for some time that he was dull and looked quite melancholy?”

“Yes, I have.”

“When he came, he went and posted himself near you, and stayed there, silent, absorbed to such a degree, that for several days I asked myself—­pardon me for speaking to you with such frankness, it is my way, you know—­I asked myself if it were not you whom he loved, Susie; you are so charming, it would have been so natural!  But no, it was not you, it was I!”

“You?”

“Yes, I. Listen, he scarcely dared to look at me, he avoided me, he fled from me, he was afraid of me, evidently afraid.  Now, in justice, am I a person to inspire fear?  I am sure I am not!”

“Certainly not!”

“Ah! it was not I of whom he was afraid, it was my money, my horrid money!  This money which attracts all the others and tempts them so much, this money terrifies him, drives him desperate, because he is not like the others, because he—­”

“My child, take care, perhaps you are mistaken.”

“Oh, no, I am not mistaken!  Just now, at the door, when he was going away, he said some words to me.  These words were nothing.  But if you had seen his distress in spite of all his efforts to control it!  Susie, dear Susie, by the affection which I bear you, and God knows how great is that affection, this is my conviction, my absolute conviction—­if, instead of being Miss Percival, I had been a poor little girl without a penny Jean would then have taken my hand, and have told me that he loved me, and if he had spoken to me thus, do you know what I should have replied?”

“That you loved him, too?”

“Yes; and that is why I am so happy.  With me it is a fixed idea that I must adore the man who will be my husband.  Well!  I don’t say that I adore Jean, no, not yet; but still it is beginning, Susie, and it is beginning so sweetly.”

“Bettina, it really makes me uneasy to see you in this state of excitement.  I do not deny that Monsieur Reynaud is much attached to you—­”

“Oh, more than that, more than that!”

“Loves you, if you like; yes, you are right, you are quite right.  He loves you; and are you not worthy, my darling, of all the love that one can bear you?  As to Jean—­it is progressing decidedly, here am I also calling him Jean—­well! you know what I think of him.  I rank him very, very high.  But in spite of that, is he really a suitable husband for you?”

“Yes, if I love him.”