"Mother, when we are so unhappy already, why increase my sorrow by unjust reproaches?"
The marchioness darted a look, in which there was a flash of anger, but immediately recovering herself—
"You have, then, understood me?" she cried, with a calculating coolness.
The young girl shivered, fell trembling on the bosom of her mother, murmuring an answer interrupted by grief, and fainted.
The marchioness lifted her gently and laid her on a hammock. For a long time she contemplated her with an expression of anger, love, and sadness impossible to express.
"Poor, poor child!" murmured she, and falling on her knees near the hammock, she clasped her hands and addressed a fervent prayer to Heaven.
She prayed a long time thus. Suddenly she felt a burning tear fall upon her forehead. She quickly raised her head.
Her daughter, half raised upon the hammock, and leaning over her, was looking at her as she prayed.
"Mother! mother!" she cried, drawing her gently towards her.
The marchioness rose without answering, approached her daughter, and the two women fell into each other's arms, mingling their tears in an impassioned embrace.