"Courage for you--very well!" said Claire, smiling, and carried away by a feeling of confidence so natural at her age. "As for me, I have no need of it: I am so sure of what I advance. Stop, do you wish me to open the letter? shall I read it? give it me, timid mamma." "Yes--I would rather--here. But no, no; it is better that I should." Madame de Fermont broke the seal with indescribable emotion. Her daughter, also, in spite of her apparent confidence, could hardly breathe. "Read it aloud, mamma," said she. "The letter is not long; it is from the Countess d'Orbigny," said Madame de Fermont looking at the signature. "So much the better; it is good. Do you see, mamma, this excellent young lady has been pleased to answer you herself." "We shall see." "MADAME-M. le Comte d'Orbigny, very much indisposed for some time past, could not reply to you during my absence." "You see, mamma, it was not his fault." "Listen, listen." "Having arrived this morning from Paris, I hasten to write to you, madame, after having conferred on the subject of your letter with M. d'Orbigny. He has but a faint recollection of the relation which you suppose to have existed between him and your brother. As to the name of your husband, madame, it is not unknown to M. d'Orbigny; but he cannot recollect under what circumstances he heard it mentioned. The pretended spoliation, of which so lightly you accuse M. Jacques Ferrand, whom we have the good fortune to have for a notary, is, in the eyes of M. d'Orbigny, a cruel calumny, of which, doubtless, you have not counted the bearing. My husband, as well as myself, madame, know and admire the well-known probity of the respectable and pious man you attack so blindly. This is to inform you, madame, that M. d'Orbigny, feeling, doubtless, for the unfortunate position in which you are placed, and of which it is not in his province to find out the real cause, finds it out of his power to assist you. "Be pleased to receive, madame, with this expression of the regrets of M. d'Orbigny the assurance of my most distinguished sentiments. "COMTESSE D'ORSIGNY." The mother and daughter looked at each other, incapable of uttering a word. Micou knocked at the door and said, "Madame, can I come in for the postage and commission? It is twenty sous." "Oh! it is right; such good news! well worth what we spend in two days for our living," said Madame de Fermont, with a bitter smile; and leaving the letter on the bed, she went toward an old trunk without a lock, stooped down, and opened it. "We are robbed!" cried the unhappy woman, with horror. "Nothing--no more;" added she, in a mournful tone. And powerless, she leaned on the trunk. "What do you say, mamma? The bag of money?"