o Fraulein Schult. The words that she had overheard she could
repeat to no one. She must carry them in her heart, like the barb of an
arrow in a secret wound, where they would fester and grow more painful
day by day.

"But, above all," she said at length, rising from her knees, "let me
show proper pride."

She bathed her fevered face in cold water, then she walked up to her
mirror. As she gazed at herself with a strange interest, trying to see
whether the entire change so suddenly accomplished in herself had left
its visible traces on her features, she seemed to see something in her
eyes that spoke of the clairvoyance of despair. She smiled at herself,
to see whether the new Jacqueline could play the part, which--whether
she would or not--was now assigned to her. What a sad smile it was!

"I have lost everything," she said, "I have lost everything!" And she
remembered, as one remembers something in the far-off long ago, how that
very morning, when she awoke, her first thought had been "Shall I see
him to-day?" Each day she passed without seeing him had seemed to her a
lost day, and she had accustomed herself to go to sleep thinking of him,
remembering all he had said to her, and how he had looked at her. Of
course, sometimes she had been unhappy, but what a difference it seemed
between such vague unhappiness and what she now experienced? And then,
when she was sad, she could always find a refuge in that dear mamma--in
that Clotilde whom she vowed she would never kiss again, except with
such kisses as might be necessary to avoid suspicion. Kisses of that
kind were worth nothing. Quite the contrary! Could she kiss her father
now without a pang? Her father! He had gone wholly over to the side of
that other in this affair. She had seen him in one moment turn against
herself. No!--no one was left her!... If she could only lay her head in
Modeste's lap and be soothed while she crooned her old songs as in the
nursery! But, whatever Marien or any one else might choose to say, she
was no longer a baby. The bitter sense of her isolation arose in her.
She could hardly breathe. Suddenly she pressed her lips upon the glass
which reflected her own image, so sad, so pale, so desolate. She put the
pity for herself into a long, long, fervent kiss, which seemed to say:
"Yes, I am all alone--alone forever." Then, in a spirit of revenge, she
opened what seemed a safety-valve, preventing her from giving way to any
other emotion.

She ru