“Therefore, my daughter will hereafter live in the rooms formerly occupied by the companion of my—I mean of her mother. They are small, but more than sufficient for her. Besides, they have this advantage, that they can be easily overlooked from one of our own rooms, my dear Sarah; and that is important when we have to deal with an imprudent girl, who has so sadly abused the liberty which she enjoyed, thanks to my blind confidence.”
What should she say? What could she reply?
If she had been alone with her father, she would certainly have defended herself; she would have tried to make him reconsider his decision; she would have besought him; she might have gone on her knees to him.
But here, in the presence of these two women, with the mocking eye of Countess Sarah upon her, it was impossible! Ah! she would have died a thousand times over rather than to give these miserable adventurers the joy and the satisfaction of a new humiliation.
“Let them crush me,” she said to herself; “they shall never hear me complain, or cry for mercy.”
And when her father, who had been quietly watching her, asked,—
“Well?”
“You shall be obeyed this very night,” she replied.
And by a kind of miracle of energy, she went out of the room calmly, her head on high; without having shed a tear.
But God knew what she suffered.