g in the night?

--I! she said with the most profound astonishment.

--Yes, you, Suzanne. It seems to me that I am speaking to you. Did you hear
anything in the night?

She thought she saw at first that her father knew nothing, and, in spite of
herself, a long sigh of relief escaped her breast; therefore she replied
with the most natural air in the world:

--What do you mean that I have heard, father?

--Something has happened, my daughter, this very night, in the garden, said
Durand, scanning his words, something extraordinary.

This time Suzanne was terrified.

Nevertheless she collected all her courage; fully determined to lie to the
last extremity.

--Well?

--Well, father? you puzzle me.

And leaning her pretty pale head on her plump arm, she looked at her father
with perfect assurance.

She was charming thus. Her black hair, long and curling, partly covered her
round, polished shoulders, and her velvety eye was frankly fixed on
Durand's.

The old soldier was moved; he looked at his daughter with admiration, and
reproached himself doubtlessly for his wrongful suspicions, for he said
gently:

--Do not lie to me, Suzanne, and answer my questions frankly. I know very
well that you are not guilty, that you cannot be guilty, that you have
nothing to reproach yourself with; you quite see then that I am not angry.
But sometimes young girls allow themselves to be led into acts of
thoughtlessness which they believe to be of no consequence, and which yet
have a gravity which they do not foresee. Last night a man entered the
garden.

--The garden? said Suzanne, alarmed afresh, and ever feeling the fixed and
scrutinizing look dwelling upon her. No doubt, it is a thief. No, father,
no, I have heard nothing.

--I have several reasons for believing that it is not a thief; thieves take
more precautions; this one walked heavily in my asparagus-bed.

--Ah, what a pity! In the asparagus-bed! He has crushed some, no doubt...

--Yes, in the asparagus-bed. The mark of his feet is distinctly visible.

Suzanne could contain herself no longer. Her self-possession deserted her,
and she felt that her strength was going also. She believed that her father
knew all, she saw herself lost, and, to conceal her shame and hide her
terror, she buried herself under the bed-clothes, sobbing, and saying:

--Ah, papa! Ah, papa!

The old soldier mistook her terror, her despair and her tears.

--Come, he cried, confound it, Suzan