"Forgive me, forgive me, my child! I am a mother,--my own child is far away--and her absence causes me the deepest regret. My poor brain is so weak--now--and for a moment--I laboured under the delusion--the strange delusion that it was--that it was my absent daughter I was pressing to my heart. Pardon the strange hallucination--you cannot but pity a poor mother who realises that she is dying without being able to embrace her child for the last time." "Dying!" exclaimed the girl, raising her tear-stained face and gazing wildly at her mother. But hearing the knock repeated, Herminie hastily dried her tears, and, forcing herself to appear calm, said to her mother: "This is the second time some one has knocked, madame la comtesse." "Admit the person," murmured Madame de Beaumesnil, faintly, quite overcome by the painful scene. It proved to be the confidential maid of the countess. She entered, and said: "I went to M. le Marquis de Maillefort as madame directed." "Well?" demanded Madame de Beaumesnil, eagerly. "And M. le marquis is waiting below until madame la comtesse is ready to see him." "Heaven be praised!" murmured Madame de Beaumesnil, fervently. "God is rewarding me for having had the strength to keep my vow!" Then, turning to the maid, she added: "Bring M. de Maillefort here at once." Herminie, quite overcome by so many conflicting emotions, and feeling that her presence was no longer desired, took her hat and mantle with the intention of departing at once. The countess never took her eyes from the young girl's face. She was gazing at her daughter for the last time, perhaps, for the poor mother felt her life was nearly over now. Nevertheless she had the courage to say to Herminie in an almost unconcerned voice in order to deceive the girl as to her real condition: "We will have our selections from 'Oberon' to-morrow, mademoiselle. You will have the goodness to come early, will you not?" "Yes, madame la comtesse," replied Herminie. "Show mademoiselle out, Madame Dupont, and then bring M. de Maillefort," the countess said to her maid. But as she watched her daughter move towards the door she could not help saying to her for the last time: "Farewell, mademoiselle." "Farewell, madame la comtesse," answered Herminie. And it was in these formal words that these two poor, heart-broken creatures gave vent to their grief and despair at this final hour of parting. Madame Dupont showed Herminie to the street door without taking her past the drawing-room in which M. de Maillefort was waiting. Just as the young girl was leaving, Madame Dupont said, kindly: "You have forgotten your umbrella, mademoiselle, and you will need it, for it is a dreadful night. The rain is falling in torrents." "Thank you, madame," said Herminie, recollecting now that she had left her umbrella just outside the door of the reception-room, and hastening back for it.