Madame Dutertre said nothing, hid her tears, embraced her children, and then whispered to them: "Go find your nurse, my darlings." Madeleine and Augustus obeyed and left the parlour, not, however, without turning many times to look at the great lady whom they thought so charming. CHAPTER XI. Scarcely were the two children out of the parlour, when Madeleine said to her friend, quickly: "Now we are alone, Sophie, I pray you, answer me; what is the matter with you? What is the cause of this sudden oppression? Have absence and distance destroyed your confidence in me?" Sophie had courage enough to overcome her feelings, and hide without falsehood the painful secret which was not hers. Not daring to confess, even to her best friend, the probable and approaching ruin of Dutertre, she said to Madeleine, with apparent calmness: "If I must tell you my weakness, my friend, I share sometimes, and doubtless exaggerate, the financial troubles of my husband in this crisis,--temporary they may be, but at the same time very dangerous to our industry," said Sophie, trying to smile. "But this crisis, my dear Sophie, is, as you say, only temporary, is it not? It is not yet grave and should it become so, what can be done to render it less painful to you and your husband? Without being very rich I live in perfect ease,--is there anything I would not do?" "Good, dear, excellent friend!" said Sophie, interrupting Madeleine, with emotion, "always the same heart! Reassure yourself,--this time of crisis will, I hope, be only a passing evil,--let us talk no more about it, let me have all the joy of seeing you again." "But, Sophie, if these troubles--" "Madeleine," replied Sophie, sweetly, interrupting her friend again, "first, let us talk of yourself." "Egoist!" "That is true, when it touches you; but tell me, you are happy, are you not? because, marquise as you are, you have made a marriage of love, have you not? And what about your husband?" "I am a widow." "Oh, my God, already!" "I was a widow the evening of my wedding, my dear Sophie." "What do you mean?" "As extraordinary as it may seem, it is nevertheless quite simple. Listen to me: when I left boarding-school and returned to Mexico, where I was ordered, as you know, by my father, I found but one relative of my mother, the Marquis de Miranda, mortally attacked by one of those epidemics which so often ravage Lima. He had no children and had seen me when I was a small child. He knew that my father's fortune had been entirely destroyed by disastrous lawsuits. He had a paternal sentiment for me, and almost on his death-bed offered me his hand. 'Accept, my dear Magdelena, my poor orphan,' said he to me, 'my name will give you a social position, my fortune will assure your independence, and I shall die content in knowing that you are happy.'" "Noble heart!" said Sophie.