eening curiosity, and,
without the slightest scruples, she had listened at the door. She cast
herself into Antoinette's arms, pressed her to her heart, and cried:
"Ah, my dear! oh, my dear! Did I not always say that it would end thus?"

Mlle. Moriaz hastened to free herself from her embraces; she felt the
need of being alone. On entering her chamber she took a hasty survey of
it: her furniture, her pretty knick-knacks, her rose-tined tapestry,
the muslin hangings of her bed, the large silver crucifix hanging on the
extreme wall, all seemed to regard her with astonishment, asking, "What
has happened?" And she replied:

"You are right, something has happened."

She remained in contemplation before a portrait of her mother, whom she
had lost very young.

"I have been told," she mused, "that you were a great romance-reader. I
do not care for romances at all--I scarcely ever read them; but I have
just been making one myself, with which you would not be discontented.
This man would astonish you a little; he would please you still more.
Some hours ago he seemed lost to me forever. I brazened it out. I went
in search of him, and when he saw me he surrendered. Only now he
was with me on the terrace; his lips touched me here on my hair, and
thrilled me from head to foot. Do not feel displeased with me--his are
pure and royal lips! They have been touched by the sacred fire; they
never have lied; never have there fallen from them other than proud and
noble words; they modestly recount the history of a life without blemish
Ah! why are you not here? I have a thousand things to say to you, which
you alone could comprehend; others do not comprehend me."

She began her toilet for the night. When she had unfastened her hair,
she remembered that there was One in her chamber who could comprehend
everything, and to whom she had yet said nothing. She knelt down,
her wealth of hair streaming over her beautiful shoulders, her hands
reverently clasped, her eyes fixed on the silver crucifix, and she said,
in a low tone:

"Forgive me that I have forgotten thee, thou who never hast forgotten
me! I return thanks to thee that thou hast granted my desires; thou hast
given me the happiness of which I have dreamed without daring to ask it.
Ah, yes, I am happy, perfectly happy! I promise thee that I will cast
the reflection of my joy among the poor and unfortunate of this world: I
will love them as I have never loved them before! When we give them