"One word more, Mlle. Herminie?" he asked. "Will you have the goodness to grant me another interview to-morrow at any hour that suits you? It is upon a very important, but purely personal matter I wish to consult you this time, and you will be doing me a great favour if you grant my request." "With pleasure, M. Olivier," replied the duchess, though she was not a little surprised at the request. "I shall expect you to-morrow morning." "I thank you, mademoiselle. Good-bye until to-morrow, then," said Olivier. He departed in company with Commander Bernard, and the two young girls--the two sisters--were left alone together. CHAPTER VIII. A STARTLING REVELATION. Olivier's parting words to Herminie had reawakened the grief and chagrin from which her mind had been temporarily diverted by Commander Bernard's unexpected arrival in company with Ernestine. Ernestine, too, was silent and thoughtful for two reasons. One was the peculiar look Olivier had bestowed on her on hearing of his promotion,--a look whose tender and touching significance the young girl fancied she understood; the other was the melancholy pleasure she experienced at the recollection that this new but dearly prized friend was the young musician who had so greatly ameliorated Madame de Beaumesnil's sufferings towards the last. Ernestine's silence was likewise prolonged by the difficulty she experienced in bringing the conversation around to the subject of her mother. Her visit to Herminie had been easily managed. On going to church with Mlle. de la Rochaigue as usual, she had asked Madame Laine to accompany them, and on leaving church, by pretending that she had some shopping to do, she had succeeding in getting away alone with her governess, after which a cab had taken them to within a short distance of the Rue de Monceau, where Madame Laine was now awaiting, in that vehicle, the return of her youthful employer. Though the silence of the duchess had lasted only a few moments, Ernestine, noticing the sad reverie into which her friend had fallen, said to her, with mingled tenderness and timidity: "Herminie, I do not want to be intrusive, but it seems to me you are not in your usual good spirits this morning." "That is true," answered the girl, frankly. "I am in great trouble." "In great trouble, my dear Herminie?" asked Ernestine, quickly. "Yes, and perhaps I will tell you all about it by and by, but just at this time I am too heart-broken to talk about it, so bear with me a little, until I can explain the cause of my grief, though I don't know that I ever can--" "But why this reserve, Herminie. Don't you think me worthy of your confidence?" "That is not the reason, my dear child, but you are so young that I ought not to talk to you about such matters, perhaps, but by and by we will see about it. Now, let us think about your comfort. You must lie down on my bed; you can rest better there than in a chair." "But, my dearest Herminie--"