"Madame de Beaumesnil, being very weak, is obliged to have recourse to the hand of another person in order to write to M. de Maillefort, to whom she reiterates the assurance of her very highest regard." As Madame de Beaumesnil dictated this note she was assailed by one of those puerile, but no less poignant, fears that only a mother can understand. Delighted by the refinement of manner and language she noticed in her daughter, and aware that she was a musical artiste of a high order, the countess asked herself, with a mother's jealous solicitude, if Herminie's education was all it should be, and if her child's great musical talent might not have been cultivated at the expense of other and less showy accomplishments. And strange as it may seem,--so important are the merest trifles to a mother's pride,--at that moment, and in spite of all her grave anxieties, Madame de Beaumesnil was saying to herself: "What if my daughter did not spell well? What if her handwriting should prove execrable?" This fear was so keen that for a minute or two the countess dared not ask Herminie to show her the letter she had written, but, finally, unable to endure the suspense any longer, she asked: "Have you finished, mademoiselle?" "Yes, madame la comtesse." "Then will you have the goodness to hand me the letter so--so I can see if M. de Maillefort's name is spelled correctly. I neglected to tell you how it was spelled," added the countess, unable to invent any better excuse for her curiosity. Herminie placed the letter in Madame de Beaumesnil's hand. And how proud and delighted that lady was when she saw that the spelling was not only absolutely perfect, but that the chirography was both graceful and distinguished. "Wonderful! I never saw more beautiful writing!" exclaimed Madame de Beaumesnil, hastily. Then, fearing her companion would notice her emotion, she added, more calmly: "Will you kindly address the letter now, mademoiselle, to-- "_M. le Marquis de Maillefort,_ _"No. 45 Rue des Martyrs._" Madame de Beaumesnil then summoned a trusty maid who waited upon her exclusively, and as soon as she came in, said to her: "Madame Dupont, you will take a carriage and deliver this letter yourself to the person to whom it is addressed. In case M. de Maillefort is not at home, you are to wait for him." "But what if madame la comtesse should need anything during my absence?" said the maid, evidently much surprised at this order. "Attend to my commission," replied Madame de Beaumesnil. "Mademoiselle here will, I am sure, be kind enough to perform any service I may require." Herminie bowed her assent. The countess proceeded to repeat her instructions to her attendant, and while she was thus engaged, Herminie feeling comparatively safe from observation, gazed at Madame de Beaumesnil with a world of love and anxiety in her eyes, saying to herself the while, with touching resignation: