"Perhaps she does know that I am her daughter. If she does not, why should she be so pleased to learn that I am happy. It matters little, however. If she does know that I am her daughter, I must reassure her so as to save her from vain regrets, and perhaps remorse. If I am a stranger to her, it is no less necessary for me to reassure her, else she may think I wish to excite her commiseration, and my pride revolts at the idea of that." Meanwhile, Madame de Beaumesnil, longing to hear Herminie repeat an assurance so precious to a mother's heart, exclaimed: "And you say you are happy--really and truly happy?" "Yes, madame," answered Herminie, almost gaily, "very happy." Seeing her daughter's charming face thus radiant with innocent joy and youthful beauty, the countess was obliged to make a violent effort to keep from betraying herself, and it was with a fair imitation of Herminie's gaiety that she replied: "Don't laugh at my question, mademoiselle, but to us, who are unfortunately accustomed to all the luxuries and superfluities of wealth, there are many things that seem incomprehensible. When you left school, however modest your wants may have been, how did you manage to supply them?" "Oh, I was rich, then, madame la comtesse," said Herminie, smiling. "How was that?" "Two years after I was placed at a Parisian school, the remittances which had, up to that time, been received for my schooling ceased. I was then twelve years old, and the principal of the school was very fond of me. 'My child,' she said to me one day, 'your friends have ceased to pay for you, but that makes no difference; you shall stay on just the same.'" "Noble woman!" "She was the best woman that ever lived, madame la comtesse, but, unfortunately, she is dead now," said Herminie, sadly. Then, unwilling to leave the countess under a painful impression, she added, smilingly: "But the kind-hearted woman had not taken my greatest fault into consideration in making these plans. For, as you ask me to be perfectly frank with you, madame, I am forced to admit that I have one great and deplorable fault." "And what is it, may I ask?" "Alas! madame, it is _pride_." "Pride?" "Yes; so when our kind-hearted principal offered to keep me out of charity, my pride revolted, and I told her I would accept her offer only upon condition that I was allowed to pay by my work for what she offered me gratuitously." "You said that at the age of twelve. What a little braggart she must have thought you. And how did you propose to pay her, pray?" "By superintending the practising of the younger music pupils, for I was very far advanced for my age, having always had a passion for music." "And did she accept your proposal?" "Gladly, madame la comtesse. My determination to be independent seemed to touch her deeply." "I can readily understand that."