CHAPTER XXX.
A SLIGHT THING AT THE BEST.
So I left Benjamin much frightened, and marvelling, both at his violent passion, and at the message which he sent to Madam.
She was waiting for me at the lodging.
'Madam,' I said, 'I have seen Benjamin. He is very angry. He bade me go home and ask you concerning his conditions. We must not anger our best friend, dear Madam.'
She rose from her chair and began to walk about, wringing her hands as if torn by some violent emotion.
'Oh! my child,' she cried; 'Alice, come to my arms—if it is for the last time—my daughter. More than ever mine, though I must never call thee daughter.'