"Alas! madame," said Ernestine, unable to repress two big tears that rose to her eyes and then rolled slowly down her cheeks, "on the contrary, I am doing my very best to forget this wealth, for it reminds me that I am an orphan."
"My poor dear little darling!" exclaimed Madame de la Rochaiguë, embracing Ernestine effusively, "how angry I am with myself for having unintentionally grieved you. Dry those lovely eyes, I beg of you. It makes me wretched to see you weep!"
Ernestine wiped away her tears, and the baroness continued, affectionately:
"Come, my child, you must be brave and sensible. Of course it is a terrible, an irreparable misfortune to be an orphan, but as the misfortune is irreparable you should make the best of it, and say to yourself that you at least are blessed with some devoted relatives and friends, and that, though the past is sad and gloomy, the future may be most brilliant."
As Madame de la Rochaiguë was thus consoling the orphan, a deprecating rap was heard at the door.
"Who is it?" inquired the baroness.
"Mlle. de Beaumesnil's majordomo, who solicits the honour of throwing himself at her feet."
Ernestine evinced so much surprise that the baroness said, smilingly:
"It is only one of M. de la Rochaiguë's jokes. It is he who is at the door."
Mlle. de Beaumesnil also tried to smile as the baroness said, in a loud voice: