at ravages such a thought, when fixed and
incessant, must have made on these young, loving, timid, and simple
hearts. Haw could the orphans be on their guard against such anonymous
communications, which spoke with reverence of all they loved, and seemed
every day justified by the conduct of their father? Already victims of
numerous plots, and hearing that they were surrounded by enemies, we can
understand, how faithful to the advice of their unknown friend, they
forbore to confide to Dagobert these letters, in which he was so justly
appreciated. The object of the proceeding was very plain. By continually
harassing the marshal on all sides, and persuading him of the coldness of
his children, the conspirators might naturally hope to conquer the
hesitation which had hitherto prevented his again quitting his daughters
to embark in a dangerous enterprise. To render the marshal's life so
burdensome that he would desire to seek relief from his torments in airy
project of daring and generous chivalry, was one of the ends proposed by
Rodin--and, as we have seen, it wanted neither logic nor possibility.
After having read the letter, the two remained for a moment silent and
dejected. Then Rose, who held the paper in her hand, started up suddenly,
approached the chimneypiece, and threw the letter into the fire, saying,
with a timid air: "We must burn it quickly, or perhaps some great danger
will ensue."
"What greater misfortune can happen to us," said Blanche, despondingly,
"than to cause such sorrow to our father? What can be the reason of it?"
"Perhaps," said Rose, whose tears were slowly trickling down her cheek,
"he does not find us what he could have desired. He may love us well as
the children of our poor mother, but we are not the daughters he had
dreamed of. Do you understand me, sister?"
"Yes, yes--that is perhaps what occasioned all his sorrow. We are so
badly informed, so wild, so awkward, that he is no doubt ashamed of us;
and, as he loves us in spite of all, it makes him suffer."
"Alas! it is not our fault. Our dear mother brought us up in the deserts
of Siberia as well as she could."
"Oh! father himself does not reproach us with it; only it gives him
pain."
"Particularly if he has friends whose daughters are very beautiful, and
possessed of all sorts of talents. Then he must bitterly regret that we
are not the same."
"Dost remember when he took us to see our cousin, Mdlle. Adrienne, who
was so affecti
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