"An' you crah bic-ause 'e is nod guiltie?"
"Ah! foolish!"
"Ah, non, my chile, I know fo' wad you cryne: 't is h-only de sighd of de blood."
"Oh, sighd of blood!"
Clotilde let a little nervous laugh escape through her dejection.
"Well, then,"--Aurora's eyes twinkled like stars,--"id muz be bic-ause 'Sieur Frowenfel' bump 'is 'ead--ha, ha, ha!"
"'Tis nod tru'!" cried Clotilde; but, instead of laughing, as Aurora had supposed she would, she sent a double flash of light from her eyes, crimsoned, and retorted, as the tears again sprang from their lurking-place, "You wand to mague ligue you don't kyah! But I know! I know verrie well! You kyah fifty time' as mudge as me! I know you! I know you! I bin wadge you!"
Aurora was quite dumb for a moment, and gazed at Clotilde, wondering what could have made her so unlike herself. Then she half rose up, and, as she reached forward an arm, and laid it tenderly about her daughter's neck, said: