As she said this, Violette's voice changed, she heaved a deep sigh, and her eyes filled with tears.
The count was touched; as he listened to the girl, he did not tire of gazing at her with a close scrutiny which would have alarmed her if she had not been at that moment engrossed by the thought of Georget.
"Is your mother still living, mademoiselle?" the count suddenly asked; and Violette, surprised by a question which had no connection with Georget, faltered:
"No, monsieur, no, I have no mother.—Did Georget tell you that he knew me, monsieur?"
"Yes, yes, he told me that.—Is it long since you lost her?"
"Why, monsieur, it is several weeks now since I have seen him; so he is in the country with you, is he, monsieur?"
"Georget? yes, he is with me. But I was talking about your mother; I was asking you if you lost her when you were young?"
"My mother? why, I never knew her, monsieur; I am a poor girl, deserted by her parents; and I owe the position that I have to-day to a kind-hearted woman who sold flowers on this same spot."
"Ah! I understand," replied the count, thinking that the girl had been brought up at the Foundling Hospital. "I beg your pardon, I am sorry that I asked you that question; I should be terribly distressed to cause you pain; I must seem very inquisitive to you, but your features remind me strongly of someone whom I once knew very well."
"Oh! you haven't offended me, monsieur; I ask nothing better than to answer you; I was so anxious to know you, since I knew how kind you had been to Georget."