The next minute the virago was on the way.
Anselmo remained alone with the two women. The young girl sobbed silently, and the invalid remained motionless.
"Mademoiselle," he began, "I think you might loosen your mother's dress; the fainting fit lasts rather long."
The young girl looked at him, seeming not to understand.
"She is your mother, is she not?"
The young girl nodded, and, rising, pressed her lips upon the woman's forehead. Thereupon she loosened her mother's dress and held a glass of water to her lips. The invalid mechanically drank a few drops, but soon waved it back and whispered:
"No more, no water, leave me!"
"Mother," said the young girl, "mother, it is I; do you not know me?"
"No, I do not know who you are!" cried the invalid. "Away, I cannot sing to-day—my breast pains me. Oh—"
"Oh, mother," sobbed the poor child.