"No, no," said the young girl, to pacify her mother; "it is nothing; it is fright; it will pass over; and you, how are you? Give me your hands. How burning hot they are! Ah! you are suffering; you wish to conceal it from me." "Do not think so: I am better than ever; it is the emotion which this man has caused me which makes me thus. I slept on the chair very soundly; I only awoke when you did." "Yet, mamma, your poor eyes are very red, much inflamed!" "Ah! well, my child, on a chair sleep is not so refreshing, you know!" "Really, do you not suffer?" "No, no, I assure you; and you?" "Nor I; only I tremble still from fear. I entreat you, mamma, let us leave this house." "And where shall we go to? You know with how much trouble we found this wretched place; and, besides, we have paid two weeks in advance; they will not return us our money; and we have so little left--so little, that we should manage as closely as possible." "Perhaps some day M. de Saint Remy will answer your letter." "I no longer hope it; it is so long since I have written." "He might not have received your letter: why do you not write him again? From hence to Angers is not so far; we shall soon have an answer." "My poor child, you know how much this has cost me already." "What do you risk? he is so good, notwithstanding his roughness. Was he not one of my father's old friends, and, besides, he is our relation." "But he is poor himself; his fortune is very small. Perhaps he does not reply, to avoid the mortification of being obliged to refuse us." "But if he has not received your letter, mamma?" "And if he has received it, my child; of two things choose one: either he is in such a situation that he cannot come to our aid, or he feels no interest for us; then why expose ourselves to a refusal or a humiliation?" "Come, courage, mamma, we have one hope left. Perhaps this morning will bring us a happy answer." "From Lord d'Orbigny?" "Without doubt. This letter, of which you formerly made a draught, was so simple, so touching--exposed so naturally our misfortunes, that he will have pity on us. Really, I do not know what tells me you are wrong to despair of assistance." "He has so little reason to interest himself about us: he had, it is true, formerly known your father, and I had often heard my brother speak of Lord d'Orbigny as of a man with whom he had been on friendly terms before he left Paris with his young wife." "It is just on that account that I have hopes; he has a young wife, she will be compassionate; and, besides, in the country one can do so much good. He will take you, I suppose, for housekeeper; I will take care of the linen. Since Lord d'Orbigny is very rich, in a large house there is always employment." "Yes; but we have so little right to his interest. We are so unfortunate." "That is frequently a title in the eyes of charitable people. Let us hope that Lord d'Orbigny and his wife are so."