“Are you mademoiselle’s mother?” he asked, looking up. “No,” she said, “but it is just the same as though I were.” “Well, yes, you are right. Read it quickly,” he continued, “and then sign or leave it alone, but be quick.” I felt the color coming into my face, for this man was odious. Duquesnel whispered to me: “There’s no ceremony about him, but he’s all right, don’t take offense.” I signed my engagement and handed it to his ugly partner. “You know,” he remarked, “M. Duquesnel is responsible for you. I should not upon any account have engaged you.” “And if you had been alone, monsieur,” I answered, “I should not have signed; so we are quits.” I went away at once and hurried to my mother’s to tell her, for I knew this would be a great joy for her. Then, that very day, I set off with my _petite dame_ to buy everything necessary for furnishing my dressing-room. The following day I went to the convent in the Rue Notre Dame des Champs to see my dear governess, Mlle. De Brabender. She had been ill, with acute rheumatism in all her limbs, for the last thirteen months. She had suffered so much that she looked like a different person. She was lying in her little white bed, a little white cap covering her hair, her big nose was drawn with pain, her washed-out eyes seemed to have no color in them. Her formidable mustache alone bristled up with constant spasms of pain. Besides all this she was so strangely altered that I wondered what had caused the change. I went nearer and, bending down, kissed her gently. I then gazed at her so inquisitively that she understood instinctively. With her eyes she signed to me to look on the table near her, and there in a glass I saw all my dear old friend’s teeth. I put the three roses I had brought her in the glass and, kissing her again, I asked her forgiveness for my impertinent curiosity. I left the convent with a very heavy heart, for the Mother Superior took me in the garden and told me that my beloved Mlle. De Brabender could not live much longer. I therefore went every day for a time to see my gentle old governess, but as soon as the rehearsals commenced at the Odéon my visits had to be less frequent. One morning about seven o’clock, a message came from the convent to fetch me in great haste, and I was present at the dear woman’s death agony. Her face lighted up at the supreme moment with such a holy look that I suddenly longed to die. I kissed her hands which were holding the crucifix: they had already turned cold. I asked to be allowed to be there when she was placed in her coffin.