La Frochard administered a terrible pinch that pulled Louise away, then “mothered” her cutely. “We are starving, my beautiful lady,” she whined, “and the poor girl is out of her head. What is that you say? Not my daughter? Yes, indeed she is––the precious––and the youngest of seven. Charity, charity! In the name of God, charity!” she sniffled.
Reluctantly Countess de Linieres stifled the impulse to mother this kindred and hapless young being, averred to be the beggar’s daughter. She placed a golden louis on the palm of the singer, saying:
“Give this to your mother, child.”
CHAPTER XII
LOVE, MASTER OF HEARTS
The Count’s demands brought to a head a resolve that had taken possession of Chevalier de Vaudrey’s heart and soul. Always the picture of the sweet Norman girl he had saved from de Praille’s foul clutches was in his waking thoughts, of nights he dreamed a blessed romance! He recked not of the Count’s displeasure, sorrowed that he must displease his Aunt as sorely. The only bar was that a vision of the lost Louise stood, as it were, between him and his beloved Henriette.
Now that he had come to her to speak of his proposal, the little heart still quested for the lost sister.
“Don’t you ever think of anyone but her?” he asked.