“Oh, madame!” cried the countess; “you shall see them;” and opening a secret drawer above the other, she drew out the originals, which were carefully inclosed in an old portfolio, on which were the arms of the Valois.
The lady took them, and after examining them, said, “You are right; these are perfectly satisfactory, and you must hold yourself in readiness to produce them when called upon by proper authority.”
“And what do you think I may expect, madame?” asked Jeanne.
“Doubtless a pension for yourself, and advancement for M. de la Motte, if he prove worthy of it.”
“My husband is an honorable man, madame, and has never failed in his military duties.”
“It is enough, madame,” said the lady, drawing her hood still more over her face. She then put her hand in her pocket, and drew out first the same embroidered handkerchief with which we before saw her hiding her face when in the sledge, then a small roll about an inch in diameter, and three or four in length, which she placed on the chiffonier, saying, “The treasurer of our charity authorizes me, madame, to offer you this small assistance, until you shall obtain something better.”
Madame de la Motte threw a rapid glance at the little roll. “Three-franc pieces,” thought she, “and there must be nearly a hundred of them; what a boon from heaven.”
While she was thus thinking, the two ladies moved quickly into the outer room, where Clotilde had fallen asleep in her chair.
The candle was burning out in the socket, and the smell which came from it made the ladies draw out their smelling-bottles. Jeanne woke Clotilde, who insisted on following them with the obnoxious candle-end.
“Au revoir, Madame la Comtesse,” said they.