ult, 'perhaps I
have remembered this the better, because God willed it that we ourselves
should be childless. When Agathe took the infant and laid it in the
mother's bosom, the latter regarded it for a moment with an expression
of intense fondness; then, raising her eyes to her husband, who stood
over her, she laughed for joy.

"'Mother and daughter prospered apace. The little girl became the pet of
the house; we all quarelled for her; but each had to submit in turn. How
intelligent! what speaking eyes! what knowing looks! what innocently
mischievous ways! mother and child! I wish you could have seen them. I
soon marked a striking change: the young comtesse was now never herself
a child. A gentle dignity distinguished her--new-born, it would
seem--but natural. I am making my story a long one, but I could talk to
you the whole day in this way. So, the months passed on--and the
revolution did not abate; and the comte was sick at heart, and the
comtesse was, as ever, cheerful, content, happy, and the little one
could stand alone by a chair and call out to us all, wherever we were.
The comte, notwithstanding his promise, could not resist his desire to
learn more of what was going on than I could inform him of. I seldom
went away, for when hawks are abroad, it is well to look after the
brood: and as I had nothing to gain, and every thing to lose, by
venturing out, I thought it best to stay at home. The comte, on the
contrary, was anxious to know every thing. He had made several visits to
Calais, first obtaining his wife's consent, although the agony she
suffered seemed to fill his heart with remorse; this, however, was soon
smothered by his renewed and unconquerable restlessness. One morning he
was pleading with her for leave to go again, answering her expressions
of fear with the fact that he had been often already without danger.
"There is always a first time," said my Agathe, who was in the room.
"And there is always a last time, too," said I, happening to enter at
that moment. I did not know what they were talking about, and the words
came out quite at random. The comtesse turned pale. "Albert," she said,
"content yourself with your Victorine and our babe: go not away from
us." The infant was standing by its mother's knee, and without
understanding what was said, she repeated, "Papa--not go. The comte
hesitated: "What a foreboding company--croakers every one of you--away
with such presentiments of evil. Go I will, to sho