And he pressed the hand of Madame de Beaumesnil affectionately, as if to seal his promise. "Now I can die in peace!" exclaimed the countess. And before the marquis could prevent it, she had pressed her cold lips upon the hand he had offered her; and, from this manifestation of ineffable gratitude, M. de Maillefort was convinced that the person in question was indeed Madame de Beaumesnil's illegitimate child. All at once, either because so much violent emotion had exhausted the invalid's strength, or because her malady--concealed for a time by an apparent improvement in the sufferer's condition--had attained its height, Madame de Beaumesnil made a sudden movement, at the same time uttering a cry of agony. "Good God, madame, what is it?" cried the marquis, terrified at the sudden alteration in Madame de Beaumesnil's features. "It is nothing," she answered, heroically, "a slight pain, that is all. But here, take this key,--quick, I beg of you," she added, drawing out a key from under her pillow and handing it to him. "Open--that--secretary," she gasped. The marquis obeyed. "There is a purse in the middle drawer. Do you see it?" "Yes, here it is." "Keep it, I beg of you. It contains a sum of money which I have a perfect right to dispose of. It will at least save the young girl I commended to your care from want. Only promise me," continued the poor mother, her voice becoming more and more feeble each moment,--"promise me that you will never mention my name to--to this orphan--nor tell her who it was that asked you to place this money in her hands. But tell her, oh, tell this unfortunate child that she was tenderly loved until the last, and that--that it was absolutely necessary--" The countess was so weak now that the conclusion of the sentence was inaudible. "But this purse--to whom am I to give it, madame? Where shall I find this young girl, and what is her name?" exclaimed M. de Maillefort, alarmed by the sudden change in Madame de Beaumesnil's condition, and by her laboured breathing. But instead of answering M. de Maillefort's question Madame de Beaumesnil sank back on her pillows with a despairing moan, and clasped her hands upon her breast. "Speak to me, madame," cried the marquis, bending over the countess in the utmost terror and alarm. "This young girl, tell me where I can find her, and who she is." "I am dying--dying--" murmured Madame de Beaumesnil, lifting her eyes heavenward. Then with a last supreme effort, she faltered: "Don't forget--your promise--my child--the orphan!" In another moment the countess was no more; and M. de Maillefort, overcome with grief and chagrin, could no longer doubt that this orphan, whose name and place of abode were alike unknown to him, was Madame de Beaumesnil's illegitimate child. * * * * * The funeral rites of Madame de Beaumesnil were conducted with great splendour.