With their teeth set, their faces close together, the two women went on
speaking in feverish whispers.
"Be quiet, Camille, I tell you! I will not allow such language!"
"But I won't be quiet when you do all you can to wound me. If it's wrong
of me to dress like an old woman, perhaps another is rather ridiculous in
dressing like a girl, like a bride."
"Like a bride? I don't understand you."
"Oh! yes, you do. However, I would have you know that everybody doesn't
find me so ugly as you try to make them believe."
"If you look amiss, it is because you don't dress properly; that is all I
said."
"I dress as I please, and no doubt I do so well enough, since I'm loved
as I am."
"What, really! Does someone love you? Well, let him inform us of it and
marry you."
"Yes--certainly, certainly! It will be a good riddance, won't it? And
you'll have the pleasure of seeing me as a bride!"
Their voices were rising in spite of their efforts to restrain them.
However, Camille paused and drew breath before hissing out the words:
"Gerard is coming here to ask for my hand in a day or two."
Eve, livid, with wildly staring eyes, did not seem to understand.
"Gerard? why do you tell me that?"
"Why, because it's Gerard who loves me and who is going to marry me! You
drive me to extremities; you're for ever repeating that I'm ugly; you
treat me like a monster whom nobody will ever care for.
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