The young prince and his sister went out with Mme. Daubrel.
"How beautiful you are! And you are as good as you are beautiful," said Lise to the young girl, who, before she could hinder it, had kissed her hand as in the olden time. "How worthy to be loved, too!"
"Madame la Comtesse!" said Vera, blushing.
"Oh, I am not jealous," said Mme. Meyrin, with a mournful smile. "You will always love them, will you not, when I am dead? For I am going to die; I know it; I feel it. What strength God had left me to see them I have given them just now. What would have become of them but for you these three years? What will become of them without you, without a mother to guard them? Swear that you will never leave them—swear it, I beg of you. Then I can go before my God grateful and resigned."
"I promise you, madame," said Vera, crying.
"Thank you," murmured Lise, in a voice that could scarcely be heard, her eyes closing.
The young girl sprung up. Thinking the patient was dying, she called Mme. Daubrel. She ran in with Dumesnil, leaving the young prince and his sister in the neighboring room under the care of the Sister of Charity.
But the last hour of the deserted woman was not yet come. Her heart beat feebly; with her crooked fingers now and then she tried to draw the bed-clothes about her—a movement common to the dying.
Mme. Meyrin lay thus until the evening. When Marthe, then, was about to take Alexander and Tekla to the room made ready for them, she reopened her eyes, looked round vaguely, and stammered:
"My children."