that I stole his postal-card, for I have stolen it! It's not very serious, perhaps, but how shall I dare talk to him about it, how shall I, first of all, confess that I had the bad manners to look at his correspondence? Oh! but a postcard, a picture! And then I shall tell him the truth—it fell under my eyes by chance, and if the card had been turned with the address side upwards, I should certainly not have turned it over...."
What was most repugnant to her was the necessity of speaking of Gratienne, for Leonor was not ignorant of her projected marriage with M. Hervart. She remained undecided, and at once she began to suffer once more; for her grief had spared her a little while she was engaged in her deliberations.
She was so wretched and so tired that when the dinner-bell rang she went down without thinking of her dress, without refreshing her eyes, still red and inflamed with crying.
