"I wonder who it can be?"
"I haven't the slightest idea, but we shall soon know."
"Some claim on the estate, probably," remarked the baroness. "It should have been sent to the notary."
Almost at the same instant the servant opened the door, and announced:
"Mademoiselle Herminie."
Though beautiful under any and all circumstances, the lovely face of the "duchess," wan from the profound grief caused by the death of her mother, wore an expression of intense sadness. Her lovely golden hair, which she usually wore in long curls, was wound smoothly around her head, for, in her bitter sorrow, the poor child for the last two months had entirely forgotten the innocent vanities of youth. Another trivial but highly significant detail,—Herminie's white and beautifully shaped hands were bare; the shabby little gloves so often and carefully mended were no longer wearable, and her increasing poverty would not permit her to purchase others.
Yes, her poverty, for, wounded to the heart by her mother's death, and dangerously ill for six weeks, the young girl had been unable to give the music lessons which were her only means of support, and her little store of savings had been swallowed up in the expenses of her illness, so, while waiting for the pay for the lessons resumed only a few days before, Herminie had been obliged to pawn some silver purchased in an hour of affluence, and on the paltry sum thus obtained she was now living with a parsimony which want alone can teach.
On seeing this pale but beautiful girl, whose clothing indicated extreme poverty, in spite of its scrupulous neatness, the baron and his wife exchanged glances of surprise.
"I am Madame de la Rochaiguë, mademoiselle," said the baroness. "What can I do for you?"
"I came, madame, to rectify a mistake," replied Herminie, blushing deeply, "and return this five hundred franc note which was sent to me by—by the late Madame de Beaumesnil's notary."