The young man darted to the window. Both saw a calèche entering the courtyard. Courtin ran to the carriage, hat in hand; a head looked out,--it was that of the Baronne de la Logerie.
Michel, on seeing his mother, felt a cold chill run through his veins; it was evident that she had come for him. Bertha questioned him with her eyes to ask what she ought to do. Michel pointed to a dark corner,--a sort of closet or recess without a door,--where she might hide, and hear all without being seen herself. He thought he should gather strength from her secret presence. Five minutes later the stairs creaked under his mother's step.
Bertha had rushed to her hiding-place and Michel had seated himself near the window, as if he had neither seen nor heard anything. The door opened and the baroness appeared.
Perhaps she had come with the intention of being harsh and stern as usual; but on seeing Michel by the paling light, pale himself as the twilight, she abandoned all severity, and opening her arms, cried out:--
"Oh, my unhappy child! have I found you?"
Michel, who did not expect this reception, was greatly moved; and he flung himself into his mother's open arms crying:--
"Oh, mother,--mother! My good mother!"
She, too, was greatly changed; traces were plainly to be seen upon her face of incessant tears and sleepless nights.