"Do not call anybody. I will go up if you will show me the way. But stay," she added, seeing that Julien was incapable of moving. "Perhaps it will be well to notify madame your mother. I did not see her yesterday; perhaps she is not well?" "She is a little indisposed," said Julien. "Then--yes, you must prepare her for a--pleasant surprise, thank God! which might, however, give her too great a shock. Tell her gently that I bring great and good news from Monsieur Antoine Thierry in relation to the house at Sèvres." Julien could not nor did not think that he should resist the desire to thank Madame d'Estrelle. As he had recovered his presence of mind to some extent, he blessed her for what she was doing for his mother, in terms so overflowing with emotion and delicacy of sentiment, that she was profoundly touched, but not surprised. With such a nature as his and such an irresistible face Julien could not express himself otherwise. Thereupon the ice was broken and all the rigid rules of etiquette were forgotten, as if distrust would have been a mutual insult; and they talked for a moment with an extraordinary absence of constraint. "I am overjoyed to have been of assistance to your mother," said Julie, "as you must know. She cannot have failed to tell you how dearly I love her!" "You are quite right to love her, you will never repent it. Her heart is worthy of yours." "I should be very glad if I could say that my heart is worthy of her confidence. Oh! she has told me about you! You adore her, I know; and God will bless you for that boundless filial love." "He blesses me already, since it is you who say so." "And I do say so with all my heart. Why should I not say so to you? There are so few persons whom one can esteem without reserve!" "There are some whose esteem is so great a blessing, that, in order to obtain it one would accept the hatred and contempt of all the rest of mankind." "Oh! that is mere politeness; you do not know me well enough----" "I know you, madame, by your acts of kindness, by the nobleness and delicacy of your heart. One must needs be deaf not to know you, blind not to understand you; and the calling down of one more blessing on your head cannot surprise you, provided that it be done humbly by one forever prostrate at your feet." Julie felt that the atmosphere she breathed was beginning to glow. She instinctively tried to recover her self-possession, but could not find the necessary courage to run away from that perilous interview. "Are you also pleased," she said, "to recover the house in which you grew up?" "Pleased for my poor mother's sake, oh! yes, madame; but on my own account--no!" "Are you attached to Paris?" "No, not at all; but----"