"But madame says these young women are to stay in case you should need them, and this suits all the better as madame dismissed her own maid recently, and these women are to attend her in the meantime." "That is all very well," responded Ernestine, indifferently. "Mademoiselle desires nothing?" "No, I thank you." "Does mademoiselle find herself comfortable here?" "Very comfortable." "The apartments are certainly superb, but there is nothing too good for mademoiselle. Every one says so." "My good Laine, you may put out what I shall require for the night," said Ernestine, without paying any attention to the governess's remark. "I can undress without your assistance, but I would like you to wake me a little before eight to-morrow morning." "Yes, mademoiselle." Madame Laine turned as if to leave the room, but as Ernestine opened her desk to write, the governess paused, and said: "I have a favour to ask of mademoiselle." "What is it?" "I should be very grateful to mademoiselle if she would have the goodness to spare me a couple of hours to-morrow, or the day after, to go and see a relative of mine, Madame Herbaut, who lives in the Batignolles." "Very well, go to-morrow morning, while I am at church." "I thank mademoiselle for her kindness." "Good-night, my good Laine," said Ernestine, thus dismissing her governess, who seemed inclined to continue the conversation. This interview gives a pretty correct idea of the relations that existed between Mlle. de Beaumesnil and Madame Laine. The latter had often endeavoured to establish herself on a more familiar footing with her young mistress, but at the very first effort in this direction Mlle. de Beaumesnil always put an end to the conversation, not haughtily nor curtly, but by giving some order in a kindly way. After Madame Laine's departure, Ernestine remained lost in thought for some time; then, seating herself at the table, on which her desk had been placed, she opened it and took out a small book bound in Russia leather, the first leaves of which were already filled. The history of this book was simple but touching. On her departure for Italy, Ernestine had promised her mother to write every day a sort of diary of her journey. This promise the girl had kept until the sorrowful days that immediately followed her father's fatal accident, and the even more terrible days that followed the news of the Comtesse de Beaumesnil's death; and now that she had rallied a little from these crushing blows, Ernestine found a sort of pious consolation in continuing to write to her mother every day, keeping up the both pleasant and cruel illusion by continuing these confidential revelations. The first part of this book contained copies of the letters Ernestine had written to her mother while that lady was living. The second part, separated from the first by a black cross, contained the letters which the poor child had, alas! had no need to recopy.