"Tell me, then, Fleur-de-Marie, which do you like best,—the Rodolph of yesterday, or the Rodolph of to-day?"
"I like you better now; yet yesterday I seemed to be more your equal." Then, as if correcting herself, and fearing to have annoyed Rodolph, she said to him, "When I say your equal, M. Rodolph, I do not mean that I can ever be that."
"One thing in you astonishes me very much, Fleur-de-Marie."
"And what is that, M. Rodolph?"
"You appear to have forgotten that the Chouette said to you yesterday that she knew the persons who had brought you up."
"Oh! I have not forgotten it; I thought of it all night, and I cried bitterly; but I am sure it is not true; she invented this tale to make me unhappy."
"Yet the Chouette may know more than you think. If it were so, should you not be delighted to be restored to your parents?"
"Alas, sir! if my parents never loved me, what should I gain by discovering them? They would only see me and—But if they did ever love me, what shame I should bring on them! Perhaps I should kill them!"
"If your parents ever loved you, Fleur-de-Marie, they will pity, pardon, and still love you. If they have abandoned you, then, when they see the frightful destiny to which they have brought you, their shame and remorse will avenge you."
"What is the good of vengeance?"