There is not a care on Natalie de Santos' mind. Her own child is visited, with a growing secret pleasure. She thrives in the hands of the gentle ladies of the Sacred Heart.
Regularly, Marie Berard brings reports of the other child, whose existence is important for the present.
Madame de Santos, discreetly veiled, finds time to observe the location and movements of the orphan. Marie Berard's selection has been excellent.
"Louise Moreau" is the new name of the changeling heiress, now daily becoming more contented in her new home.
Aristide Dauvray has a happy household. A master decorative workman, only lacking a touch of genius to be a sculptor, his pride is in his artistic handiwork. His happiness in his good wife Josephine. His heart centres in his talented boy.
To educate his only son Raoul, to be able to develop his marked talent as an artist, has been Aristide's one ambition. The proposition to take the girl, and the liberal payments promised, assure the artistic future of Raoul. Marie Berard has appreciated that the life of this orphan child is the measure of her own golden fortunes. Good Josephine becomes attached to the shy, sweet little wanderer, who forgets, day by day, in the new life of Cinderella, her babyish glimpses of any other land.
Natalie de Santos is safe. Pressing her silken couch, she rests in splendor. Her letters from Hardin are clear, yet not always satisfactory. Years of daily observance have taught her to read his character. As letter after letter arrives she cons them all together. Not a word of personal tenderness. Not an expression which would betray any of their secrets. With no address or signature, they are full only in directions. He is called for a length of time to Lagunitas, to put the estate in "general order."
Removed from the sway of Hardin, Natalie relies upon herself. Her buoyant wings bear her on in society. Recognized as an opponent of the North, she meets those lingering Southern sympathizers who have little side coteries yet in glittering Paris.
Adulation of her beauty and sparkling wit fires her genius. Her French is classic. The sealed book of her youth gives no hint of where her fine idiom came from. Merrily Marie Berard recounts to the luxurious social star the efforts of sly dames and soft-voiced messieurs to fathom the "De Santos'" past.
Marie Berard is irreproachable; never presuming. She can wait.