"MARQUIS DE MARVEJOLS."
The young countess put her lips to the letter written by her husband's father, saying:
"It shall be as you deign to permit, O venerable man, who read my heart so well.—Blanche! Blanche! that is your name, my darling, it is the name your grandfather gives you. Ah! how sweet it is to pronounce! How well it suits the purity of your soul!—Blanche! one would say that she understands me already, and that she thanks me for giving her that name!"
Ambroisine rarely passed a day without going to see Bathilde, especially since her friend had become a mother.
As soon as she reached the house, the young countess gave her the marquis's letter, saying:
"Read this; it concerns you too."
Ambroisine read the letter eagerly; her cheeks instantly flushed with joy and pleasure, and she threw her arms about her friend, crying:
"I shall be her godmother! he permits me to be your daughter's godmother!—What a noble old man!—Ah, yes! he knew right well that he would make us both happy by suggesting that!—And he gives her the name of Blanche—Blanche!"
Ambroisine stopped as if she had suddenly remembered something.
"What is it?" said Bathilde; "one would say that that name recalled some memory."