“No, madame; I have lost the habit; but I can die of hunger, like my poor father.”
“You have no child?”
“No, madame; and my husband, by getting killed in the service of his king, will find for himself a glorious end to all our miseries.”
“Can you, madame—I beg pardon if I seem intrusive—but can you bring forward the proofs of your genealogy?”
Jeanne rose, opened a drawer, and drew out some papers, which she presented to the lady, who rose to come nearer the light, that she might examine them; but seeing that Jeanne eagerly seized this opportunity to observe her more clearly than she had yet been able to do, she turned away as if the light hurt her eyes, turning her back to Madame de la Motte.
“But,” said she, at last, “these are only copies.”
“Oh! madame, I have the originals safe, and am ready to produce them.”
“If any important occasion should present itself, I suppose?” said the lady, smiling.
“It is, doubtless, madame, an important occasion which procures me the honor of your visit, but these papers are so precious——”
“That you cannot show them to the first comer. I understand you.”