e
imperturbable. The public prosecutor and one of the judges of the
revolutionary tribunal was taciturn, observing attentively every change
in her face; every now and then they addressed her some embarrassing
question, to which, however, the countess answered with admirable
presence of mind. Mothers have such courage!

After Madame de Dey had arranged the card parties, placing some guests
at the boston, and some at the whist tables, she stood talking to a
number of young people with extreme ease and liveliness of manner,
playing her part like a consummate actress. Presently she suggested a
game of loto, and offered to find the box, on the ground that she alone
knew where it was, and then she disappeared.

"I am suffocating, my poor Brigitte," she cried, wiping the tears that
gushed from her eyes, now brilliant with fever, anxiety, and impatience.
"He does not come," she moaned, looking round the room prepared for her
son. "Here alone I can breathe, I can live! A few minutes more and he
_must_ be here; for I know he is living. I am certain of it, my heart
says so. Don't you hear something, Brigitte? I would give the rest of my
life to know at this moment whether he were still in prison, or out in
the free country. Oh! I wish I could stop thinking--"

She again examined the room to see if all were in order. A good fire
burned on the hearth, the shutters were carefully closed, the furniture
shone with rubbing; even the manner in which the bed was made showed
that the countess had assisted Brigitte in every detail; her hopes were
uttered in the delicate care given to that room where she expected to
fold her son in her arms. A mother alone could have thought of all his
wants; a choice repast, rare wine, fresh linen, slippers, in short,
everything the tired man would need,--all were there that nothing might
be lacking; the comforts of his home should reveal to him without words
the tenderness of his mother!

"Brigitte!" said the countess, in a heart-rending tone, placing a chair
before the table, as if to give a semblance of reality to her hopes, and
so increase the strength of her illusions.

"Ah! madame, he will come. He is not far off. I haven't a doubt he is
living, and on his way," replied Brigitte. "I put a key in the Bible,
and I held it on my fingers while Cottin read a chapter in the gospel of
Saint John; and, madame, the key never turned at all!"

"Is that a good sign?" asked the countess.

"Oh! madame, that