"Mademoiselle!" he said, making his voice as gentle and paternal as possible.
She looked up, and for the first time he saw her. She was absolutely adorable, with her glossy, dark hair carried back plainly from her fair brow. How old was she? Sixteen, perhaps, but so slender that she looked younger.
"You must unfasten your mother's dress," said Sanselme, "that she may have air."
The girl looked at him as if she did not understand him. Oh! what shame and humiliation were in that young heart!
Sanselme understood, for he said:
"She is your mother, I believe?"
She rose quickly and went to the bed, and leaning over the woman, kissed her brow. This was her answer to Sanselme's question. She then loosened the sick woman's garments. Feeling her child's hands, and able to breathe better, the woman said:
"Do not touch me; I am in agony!"
That was the beginning of delirium.