"Come and seat yourself here beside me," said the countess, affectionately, "and tell me how it is that you who can not be more than seventeen or eighteen years of age--" "Eighteen years and six months, madame la comtesse." "Well, then, how it is that you are such an accomplished musician at your age?" "Madame la comtesse judges me too flatteringly. I have always had a great love for music, and I had very little trouble in learning it." "But who was your instructor? Where did you learn music?" "I was taught in the school I attended, madame la comtesse." "In Paris, then, I suppose?" "No; I have attended school in other places besides Paris." "Where?" "In Beauvais. I lived there until I was ten years old." "And after that?" "I was placed in a Parisian school." "And how long did you remain there?" "Until I was sixteen and a half." "And after that?" "I left school and began to give lessons in singing and on the piano." "And ever since that time you have--?" Madame de Beaumesnil hastily checked herself, then added, with no little embarrassment: "I am really ashamed of my inquisitiveness--nothing but the deep interest I take in you could excuse it, mademoiselle." "The questions madame la comtesse deigns to address to me are evidently so kindly meant that I am only too glad to answer them in all sincerity." "Well, then, with whom did you make your home after leaving school?" "With whom did I make my home, madame?" "Yes; I mean with what persons?" "I had no one to go to, madame." "No one?" exclaimed Madame de Beaumesnil, with truly heroic courage. "You had no relatives? No family?" "I have no relatives, madame la comtesse," replied Herminie, with a courage equal to that of her mother. "I have no relatives." "I am sure now that she does not know that I am her daughter," Herminie said to herself. "If she did, she certainly would not have had the courage to ask me such a question." "Then with whom have you lived since that time?" asked the countess. "I have lived alone." "Entirely alone?" "Yes, madame." "Forgive me this one more question, for at your age--such a position is so unusual--and so very interesting--have you always had scholars enough to support you?" "Oh, yes, madame la comtesse," replied poor Herminie, bravely. "And you live entirely alone, though you are so young?" "What else could I do, madame? One can not choose one's lot; one can only accept it, and by the aid of industry and courage try to make one's existence, if not brilliant, at least happy." "Happy!" exclaimed Madame de Beaumesnil, in accents of irrepressible delight; "you are really happy?" As she uttered these words her countenance, as well as her voice, betrayed such intense joy and relief that Herminie's doubts returned, and she said to herself: