And strange as it may seem,—so important are the merest trifles to a mother's pride,—at that moment, and in spite of all her grave anxieties, Madame de Beaumesnil was saying to herself:
"What if my daughter did not spell well? What if her handwriting should prove execrable?"
This fear was so keen that for a minute or two the countess dared not ask Herminie to show her the letter she had written, but, finally, unable to endure the suspense any longer, she asked:
"Have you finished, mademoiselle?"
"Yes, madame la comtesse."
"Then will you have the goodness to hand me the letter so—so I can see if M. de Maillefort's name is spelled correctly. I neglected to tell you how it was spelled," added the countess, unable to invent any better excuse for her curiosity.
Herminie placed the letter in Madame de Beaumesnil's hand. And how proud and delighted that lady was when she saw that the spelling was not only absolutely perfect, but that the chirography was both graceful and distinguished.
"Wonderful! I never saw more beautiful writing!" exclaimed Madame de Beaumesnil, hastily.
Then, fearing her companion would notice her emotion, she added, more calmly:
"Will you kindly address the letter now, mademoiselle, to—