t
the sight of his dependent relative. I have seen it when I took my seat
at table; I have seen it when room was made for me in the carriage; I
have seen it on numberless occasions. His glances, his accents, his
whole demeanor, have seemed to reproach me for the place I occupied, for
the garments I wore, for the very bread I ate,--the bread of bitter,
bitter charity! And oh!" she groaned, "_must this be so still?_ _Must_ I
still accept these bounties, which are begrudged me? _Must_ I still be
bowed to the dust by the weight of these charities? Alas! I _must_,
because I have nothing of my own,--because I am nothing of myself!"

"Madeleine! one of these days"--

Madeleine did not heed her. "Oh, my father! my father! To what torturing
humiliations you subjected me in bequeathing me nobility with poverty!
Well may you have wished that you had been born a peasant! Had I been a
peasant's child, I might have lived by, and rejoiced in, honest labor!
Had I been the daughter of a mechanic, I might have gained my bread by
some useful trade. Had I even been the child of some poor gentleman, I
might have earned a livelihood by giving lessons in music, in drawing,
by becoming a governess, or teaching in a school. But, the daughter of
the Duke de Gramont, it is one of the curses of my noble birth that I
must live upon charity,--charity unwillingly doled out and thrown in my
face, even when I am receiving it with meekness!"

"But, Madeleine, if you will but listen to me"--

Madeleine went on bitterly. "And I am young yet,--young and strong, and
capable of exertion; and I have dared to believe that, while one is
young, some of the benefits received could be repaid by the cheerful
spirit of youth,--by the performance of needful offices,--by hands ever
ready to serve, and a heart ever open to sympathize; but, if I am an
encumbrance, an annoyance while I am _young_, what an intolerable burden
I must become when youth passes away! Then I shall either be repulsed
with aversion, or sheltered with undisguised reluctance,--forced to
remember every moment that the hospitality I receive is an _alms_! Oh!
it is too horrible! Death would be a thousand times preferable."

"And you can forget how dreadful it would be for us, who love you, to
lose you?"

"I forget _everything_, except the misery of my own degraded position! I
ask for nothing save that God, in his mercy, will free me from it, I
care not how! I look despairingly on all sides, and