"Oh, mummy, you're always saying that! But are you sure that it's not you who are a little—what shall I say—mysterious? You never answer even my simplest questions."
"I shall answer them one day, child, but not before I have to ... not before I have to."
Gilberte saw her mother's face wrung with such anguish that she was silent and fondly kissed her hand. Mme. Armand went on:
"Yes, you are right. I am a little mysterious, very mysterious even; but if you only know how it hurts me to be so! Still, I will answer you this time, dear: the letter I am expecting is from your nurse."
"From my nurse? Then I was brought up in France? But where?"
Mme. Armand was silent. Gilberte waited a few moments, then put on her hat and cloak and said:
"Go and lie down, mother. You poor dear, you look as you do on your bad
