“Ask me nothing more, Louise; what I am doing now is a great deal. I swore that I would never write to this person; but since I have seen you, I have felt that it was wicked, very wicked, to deprive you of your father’s caresses; for he will be happy to recover you! Oh, yes! I am sure that he will surround you with love and care.”
“And my mother, madame—you say nothing of her? Shall I not see her too? Oh! it would be so sweet to me to hold her in my arms!”
“Your mother? Oh, no! that is impossible; your father will conceal her name from you—he must. If, however, he should disclose it, remember that a heedless word would kill her!—But I have said enough. To-morrow, at daybreak, before anyone in the house is up, you will go away; you promise me that, Louise?”
“Yes, madame, I promise.”
“That is well; and now, kiss me.”
“May I?”
Madame de Noirmont’s only reply was to put her arms about Louise’s waist, strain her to her heart, and hold her so a long time, covering her with kisses. The poor girl was so happy that she thought that she was dreaming, and she prayed heaven not to wake her.
But Madame de Noirmont, whose eyes were filled with tears, made a superhuman effort, and extricating herself from the arms that enlaced her, deposited one more kiss on the girl’s forehead and hurriedly left the room, saying in a voice overflowing with affection:
“Do not forget anything of all that I have said to you!”
Louise lay in a sort of trance; the kisses she had received had made her know such unalloyed happiness that she tried to prolong it; she dared not reflect, or seek to solve the mystery of Madame de Noirmont’s conduct; but she repeated again and again: