"Perhaps he is one," exclaimed M. Bouffard, "or, possibly, a fortune teller."
"But, as I told you just now, I announced him as a notary."
"True, true! Oh, well, I will stay awhile, and perhaps I shall be able to find out something when they leave."
Such a brilliant assemblage had never honoured Herminie's modest little home before, and the young girl experienced the liveliest satisfaction and happiness at this unexpected dénouement of a love that had seemed so hopeless. But the pleasure of welcoming Mlle. Berthe de Senneterre, Gerald's sister, and the eldest daughter of the duchess, filled her cup of joy to overflowing.
"Ah, madame," Herminie had said to the duchess, in a voice trembling with emotion,—for she appreciated the delicacy of this proceeding on the part of Gerald's mother, and felt that it was intended to serve as some reparation for the cruel words of the evening before,—"ah, madame, if I had been asked my most earnest desire, it would have been to see Mlle. de Senneterre here,—that is, if I had dared to hope for the honour."
"Berthe takes too deep an interest in her brother's happiness not to wish to be the first to welcome her new sister-in-law," replied Madame de Senneterre, in gracious, even affectionate tones.
Then Mlle. de Senneterre, a charming girl, for she strongly resembled Gerald both in appearance and character, had said to Herminie, with delightful affability:
"Yes, mademoiselle, I was anxious to be the first to thank you, for my brother is so happy, and I feel and know that he has a thousand reasons to be."
"I wish I were more worthy to offer M. de Senneterre the only family happiness he can lack," replied Herminie, gently.
And while the two young girls continued this interchange of affectionate words, thus prolonging a little scene in which Herminie gave convincing proof of perfect tact, rare distinction of manner, and a modest and graceful dignity, the hunchback, more and more charmed with his adopted daughter, said, in a whispered aside to Madame de Senneterre: