"The Superior must decide upon your case," said the portress. "You shall go to her at once."
The woman touched a bell, directing the Sister of the Order of Refuge who answered it to conduct the applicant to the apartment of Madame de Rancogne. The trembling Annunziata was led through a long corridor and ushered into a small, but cosy office in which sat an elderly lady of commanding and aristocratic presence, whose head was covered with curls of silver hair, and whose still handsome countenance wore an expressive look in which compassion and benevolence predominated. This lady was the celebrated Madame Helena de Rancogne, whose adventures and exploits as the Countess of Monte-Cristo had in the past electrified every European nation. She arose as Annunziata entered, welcoming her with a cordial, comforting smile.
"Sit down, my child," she said, in a rich, melodious voice. "You are fatigued. Are you also hungry?"
Annunziata sank into the chair offered her, covering her face with her thin hands.
"Alas! signora," she replied, faintly, "I have walked many weary miles and have not tasted a morsel of food since dawn!"
"Take the poor child to the refectory," said the Countess to the Sister, who had remained standing near the door. "After her hunger has been appeased, I will see her again and question her."
Half an hour later, Annunziata, refreshed and strengthened by her meal, once more sat in the office with the Countess of Monte-Cristo.
"My child," said the latter, "what is your name?"
"Annunziata Solara."
"You have applied for shelter here the portress informs me. Do you know that this is an asylum for the fallen of your sex?"