"I forget everything, except the misery of my own degraded position! I ask for nothing save that God, in his mercy, will free me from it, I care not how! I look despairingly on all sides, and see no escape! I am bound, hand and foot, by the chains of my own noble birth, and shut within the iron walls of circumstance. I struggle vainly in my captivity; no way of freedom is open to me! And yet I can never again resign myself to passive endurance."
"If you only knew how wretched you make me by talking in this strain!"
"I make you wretched, as I have made all others, by my presence here,—yes, I know it! You see how ungrateful, how selfish misery has rendered me, since I am cruel even to you whose pure love I never doubted."
Before Bertha could make a fresh attempt to console her cousin, Baptiste entered, bearing a letter. He looked dismayed when he beheld Madeleine's face of woe, and Bertha's tearful countenance; but the latter checked his glance of inquiry by asking abruptly what he wanted.
Still regarding Madeleine with an expression of deep concern, he replied, "The vâlet of Count Damoreau has just left this letter for Mademoiselle Madeleine, and desired that it should be delivered to her at once."
"Very well; that will do."
Bertha took the letter, and motioned to Baptiste to withdraw.
"What can Count Damoreau have to write to you about? Do open the letter and tell me."
"Not now, Bertha. Leave me to myself for a little while. I scarcely know what I am doing or saying. I entreat you to leave me!"
"Madeleine, if I were in trouble, I would not send you from me."