"Papa must have loved her very much. I remember when I was a little girl, and began to wonder why I had not a mother like Hélène, you said I must never ask papa about her, it would give him so much pain. But now I may, now that he has given her place to somebody else."
"By no means, Léonie—less than ever. If your poor father has at last succeeded in leaving his sorrow behind him, do you wish to drag him back to it, you thoughtless child?"
"Then you must tell me yourself, ma tante. It is very strange that you are so unwilling to tell me anything about my pretty mother who died when I was almost a baby."
"Why will you be so persistent? I do not like to give you so much pain."
"Why, dear aunt, I shall like to hear about her. It is very sad not to have any mother, but I can't feel as distressed about it as if I had known and loved her. She is only a beautiful dream to me. I cannot feel as I should if you were to die and leave me. You must tell me. I shall not let you have any peace till you do. You can't refuse me now, just when I am going away."
"Well, if I must, I must," said Madame Perrin with trembling voice. "What do I know? It may be for your salvation. The Blessed Virgin grant it! Your mother, Léonie, was a great beauty."
"I was sure of it. If I could only have seen her with my dear papa! He is so handsome always."
"She was a great singer too."
"I am glad of it. I shall be a singer when I have learned in Paris. I care more for the lessons in singing than for anything else in the great beautiful city, except being with my own papa."
"But, Léonie, your mother sang in the Grand Opera. She was the best singer in France, or in the world perhaps, and everybody was crazy about her."