By this she meant her son. And it was only this question which she asked so often that had the power to dim her clear eyes, to still her features, already motionless and almost fixed with a serenity which anticipated death. She began on the third day, despite the reassuring prognosis, to show some evidence of what was so soon to occur. With great composure she told Fanchette, who protested against it, where to find the sheets and her bridal dress. She asked for a humble funeral, without flowers or wreaths. She saw Philippe and Marie Louise, tried to smile at them and begged that they should not be brought again. Elizabeth, assisted with the best of good-will by Mme. Molay-Norrois, possessing that almost supernatural strength of woman at the bedside of invalids--watched over and took care of her day and night. When she came near her, she felt a sort of fear in seeing her so peaceful and almost relaxed. Once, being unable to hear the advice her mother-in-law was quietly giving her, she burst into sobs. "Do not leave me, Mother," she entreated. "What shall I do without you--you are still Albert." "I shall not leave you," said the dying woman with conviction. And, with infinite tenderness, she added faintly: "My daughter.--I had formerly regretted having had no daughter. One is always in a hurry to pity oneself!" Then she seemed to gather a little strength, sufficient to inquire: "Elizabeth, he will come back some day, I am certain of it. When he does, will you promise me that you will forgive him, forgive him without any restriction?" How could Elizabeth refuse? "I promise you," she said solemnly. "That is right," answered Mme. Derize, "if he were there, I should have tried to join your hands. It is not time yet." On the fifth day she appeared to be resigned to the fact that her son would not return. It was her last hope. She wished to see Philippe Lagier, who came every day to inquire about her. Their interviews, entirely alone, were of short duration; talking was already too much for her. She charged him to tell his friend of Elizabeth's devotion and of the change which had taken place in her. Was he not called to that mission and how could she, in the purity of her heart, suspect the humiliation he had known, which quite recently, he had believed to be incompatible with his engagement? Finally with great effort and frequent pauses, she expressed this singular confidence, which revealed to what degree she had thought of all the possibilities of reconciliation. "On Albert's last visit, so few days ago, I knew that he was not happy. I was expecting that. Happiness cannot endure, except in truth. Then I thought that I would go to Paris, that I would go to see her." "To see her?" repeated Philippe, who could not believe his ears.