'clock, she was requested to
choose whether she would await the doctor within doors or in the large
square before the building; determining to do the latter, and supporting
herself on the arm of her son, while the wife of Morel walked beside
her, she sauntered along the shady alleys that bordered this delightful
spot, Louise and Rigolette following them.
"How very glad I am to see you again, dear Louise," said the bride.
"When we came to fetch you on our arrival from Bouqueval, I wanted to
run up-stairs to you, but my husband would not let me; he said I should
tire myself, so I stayed in the coach, and that is the reason why we
meet now for the first time since--"
"You so kindly came to console me in prison, Mlle. Rigolette," cried
Louise, deeply affected. "You are so feeling for all in trouble, whether
of body or mind!"
"In the first place, my dear Louise," replied the grisette, hastily
interrupting praises that were to her oppressive, "I am not Mlle.
Rigolette any longer, but Madame Germain. I do not know whether you
heard--"
"That you were married? Oh, yes, I did. But pray let me thank you as you
deserve."
"Ah, but Louise," persisted Madame Germain, "I am quite sure you have
not learnt all the particulars; how my marriage is all owing to the
generosity of him who was at once the protector and benefactor of
yourself and family, Germain, his mother, and my own self."
"Ah, yes, M. Rodolph,--we bless his name morning and evening. When I
came out of prison the lawyer who had been to see me from time to time,
by M. Rodolph's order, told me that, thanks to the same kind friend who
had already interested himself so much for us, M. Ferrand (and here at
the very mention of the name an involuntary shudder passed over the poor
girl's frame) had settled an annuity on my poor father and myself,--some
little reparation for the wrongs he had done us. You are aware that my
poor dear father is still confined here, though still improving in
health."
"And I also know that the kind doctor who has appointed our being here
to-day even hopes your dear parent may be enabled to return with you to
Paris; he thinks that it will be better to take some decided steps to
throw off this malady, and that the unexpected presence of persons your
father was in the daily habit of seeing may produce the most favourable
effects,--perhaps cure him; and that is what I think will be the case."
"Ah, mademoiselle, I dare not hope for so much h
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