to call off
the attention of the Goualeuse from too closely observing the prince's
emotion,--the worthy squire, who still remained behind the curtain,
feigning to be very busily occupied in gazing upon the garden belonging
to the hotel, suddenly blew his nose with a twanging sound that reechoed
through the salon; for, in truth, the worthy man was crying like a
child.

"Yes, my dear Marie," said Clemence, hastily, "your father is known to
us--he is still living."

"My father!" cried La Goualeuse, in a tone of tender delight, that
subjected the firmness of Rodolph to another difficult test.

"And some day," continued Clemence,--"perhaps very shortly, you will see
him. But what will, no doubt, greatly astonish you, is that he is of
high rank and noble birth."

"And my mother, shall I not see her, too, madame?"

"That is a question your father will answer, my dear child. But tell me,
shall you not be delighted to see him?"

"Oh, yes, madame," answered Fleur-de-Marie, casting down her eyes.

"How much you will love him when you know him!" said Clemence.

"A new existence will commence for you from that very day, will it not,
Marie?" asked the prince.

"Oh, no, M. Rodolph," replied Fleur-de-Marie, artlessly; "my new
existence began when you took pity on me, and sent me to the farm."

"But your father loves you fondly--dearly!" said the prince.

"I know nothing of my father, M. Rodolph; but to you I owe everything in
this world and the next."

"Then you love me better, perhaps, than you would your father?"

"Oh, M. Rodolph, I revere and bless you with all my heart! For you have
been a saviour and preserver to me both of body and soul," replied La
Goualeuse, with a degree of fervour and enthusiasm that overcame her
natural diffidence.

"When this kind lady was so good as to visit me in prison, I said to
her, as I did to every one else, 'Oh, if you have any trouble, only let
M. Rodolph know it, and he will be sure to relieve you.' And when I saw
any person hesitating between good and evil, I used to advise them to
try and be virtuous, telling them M. Rodolph always found a way to
punish the wicked. And to such as were far gone in sin, I said, 'Take
care, M. Rodolph will recompense you as you deserve.' And even when I
thought myself dying, I felt comfort in persuading myself that God would
pity and pardon me, since M. Rodolph had deigned to do so."

Carried away by her intense feelings of gratitude and reverence