"My child," he said, "I told you this morning that you cannot, you must not, remain any longer in this house; your presence here will in the end be fatal to her who rescued you. Constance loves her husband dearly; do you wish to rob her of repose and happiness forever? She conceals the torments she is suffering; but I have read her inmost thoughts. You surely do not wish to cause the death of the woman who saved your son?" Sister Anne, by a most eloquent gesture, signified that she was prepared to sacrifice herself for Constance. "Very well," continued the count; "then you must go away, you must leave this place--to-morrow at daybreak--without seeing your benefactress. I will undertake to tell her all that your heart would impel you to say to her. You must not see any of this household again; it is unnecessary. There is one person in particular--but I need not urge upon you the necessity of taking every precaution to avoid meeting him." Sister Anne was overwhelmed with grief. To go away so suddenly, without any preparation! to go without seeing him, and forever! Her courage failed her, and the tears gushed from her eyes. The count went to her and took her hand. "Poor child!" he said; "this sudden departure grieves you, but it must be; under such circumstances, every minute's delay is a crime. I tear you away from this house, but I have a right to be harsh. Courage, dear child! It is Frédéric's father, whom you saved from the knives of the brigands, it is he who asks you to sacrifice yourself once more, for his son's good." These words produced upon the dumb girl all the effect that the count anticipated; on learning that he was her lover's father, she fell at his knees, and with clasped hands seemed to implore his forgiveness. "Rise, rise," he said, kissing her on the forehead; "unfortunate girl! would to God that I could give you back your happiness! At all events, you may be assured of a comfortable home, and your son's future is provided for. I am going to take you to a farm, which I propose to give you; there is a pretty little cottage connected with it, where you will live, attended by faithful servants who will love you dearly. There you will bring up your son; I will come often to share your retirement, and before long, I hope, peace and tranquillity will have returned to your heart." Sister Anne listened, and was ready to obey; she had no hope of being happy again, but her eyes seemed to say: "Do with me as you will; I am ready to abide by your slightest wish." "Until to-morrow, then," said the count; "I will come for you at daybreak; I want to be away before anybody in the house is astir. A comfortable carriage will be ready for us at the garden gate. Make all your preparations to-night; they need not be long, for you will find in your new home everything that you and your son will require. Au revoir, dear child; be brave! At daybreak I shall be with you."