"You have taken my place. I know you have been a daughter to her. She said so in all her letters to me. Now I believe it. I thank you."
At these first words expressed with less indifference, inspired by gratitude and decorum, Elizabeth felt she could no longer play her part. Tears and her weakness overcame her, but she gazed mechanically on the pillow, at the face so peaceful and serene, and took sudden comfort from it.
"I have caused her a great deal of sorrow," added Albert, making this confession almost in spite of himself, in response to what he had just heard.
Elizabeth had the strength to reply.
"She had confidence in you."
What did she mean by that? As he tried to interpret it, realizing that this tête-à-tête could not last much longer, she added:
"Come with me."
He followed her out of the room. She led him into the dining-room where Fanchette had laid a place for him.
"You must have some breakfast and warm yourself. It is very cold to-day. I am going back to the children. My friend Blanche Vernier has taken them to her house. I dare not bring them here. They are so little!"
"Marie Louise, Philippe," he said slowly, with a tenderness which made him tremble.