"I am afraid of paining you, my dear Ernestine--" "Go on, I beg of you, mademoiselle." "Ah, well, as you insist, I am compelled to tell you that this Marquis de Maillefort has always been one of your mother's bitterest enemies." "My mother's?" cried Mlle. de Beaumesnil, wonderingly. Then she added, with touching naivete: "Some one must have deceived you, mademoiselle. My mother could not have had any enemies." In a tone of tender commiseration, Helena replied, shaking her head: "My dear child, such artlessness does your heart credit; but, alas! the best and most inoffensive people are exposed to the animosity of the wicked. Have not the gentle lambs ravening wolves for enemies?" "But how had my mother ever wronged M. de Maillefort, mademoiselle?" asked Ernestine, with tears in her eyes. "Why, in no way. Just Heaven! one might as well say that an innocent dove would attack a tiger." "Then what was the cause of M. de Maillefort's animosity?" "Alas! my poor child, I cannot tell you that. It would be too revolting--too horrible," answered Helena, sighing heavily. "Then I have good cause to loathe this man, and yet I blamed myself for yielding to my involuntary aversion." "Ah, my dearest child, may you never have a less justifiable aversion," said the devotee, sanctimoniously, lifting her eyes heavenward. Then she added: "I must leave you, now, my dear Ernestine. Sleep sweetly. To-morrow morning, at nine o'clock, I will come for you to go to church." "Good-bye until to-morrow, mademoiselle; but, alas! you leave me with sad thoughts,--my mother had an enemy." "It is best to know the real character of the wicked, my dear Ernestine, for then one can at least guard against their evil doing. And now good-bye until to-morrow morning." "Good night, mademoiselle." So Mlle. de la Rochaigue departed, proud of the perfidious cunning with which she had aroused a cruel distrust of M. de Maillefort in Mlle. de Beaumesnil's heart. Ernestine left alone, rang for her governess, who also acted as her personal attendant. Madame Laine entered. She was about forty years of age, with a somewhat insipid face, and a pleasant, though rather obsequious manner, in which there was a touch of servility that made it very different from the devotion of a faithful nurse, which is always instinct with the dignity of disinterested affection. "Does mademoiselle wish to retire?" asked Madame Laine. "No, my good Laine, not yet. Bring me my writing-desk, please." "Yes, mademoiselle." The desk having been brought from Ernestine's chamber, her governess said: "There is something I wish to tell mademoiselle." "What is it?" "Madame has hired two other maids for mademoiselle, and--" "I have told you that I require no other personal attendants than you and Therese." "I know it, mademoiselle, and I said as much to madame, but she thinks you are not sufficiently well served." "You satisfy me perfectly."