“What was the cause of your sudden illness, madame?” asked Monsieur de Noirmont with interest. “You gave us a terrible fright.” “Why, I have no idea, monsieur. I had a sudden feeling of suffocation; then a cold perspiration broke out all over me, and I lost the use of my senses.” “You didn’t feel well this morning, you had a headache,” said Ernestine. “Yes, that is true,” replied Madame de Noirmont hastily. “I felt poorly this morning, and that is the cause, no doubt----” “And then Louise’s story must have grieved you, made your heart ache. That probably made you worse.” “Do you wish me to send for the doctor, madame?” “No, monsieur, it is not necessary; I need nothing but rest and quiet--and a little sleep, perhaps.” “We will leave you, then.” “But I shall be close by,” said Ernestine, “and I will come at the slightest sound.” Madame de Noirmont seemed most desirous to be left alone. All the others went away, Ernestine still deeply moved because she had seen her mother in a swoon, and Louise very much cast down because she feared that the story of her misfortunes had touched her mistress too deeply. Madame de Noirmont passed the rest of the day in her room; she kept her bed and expressed a wish to be alone. The next day passed in the same way; and for several days she did not leave her bed. She refused to see a doctor, however, and declared that her trouble required no other remedy than rest. But from the first moment of her illness, it was evident that Madame de Noirmont’s humor had changed: she hardly spoke; sometimes her daughter’s presence seemed irksome to her; she answered her curtly and received her caresses without warmth. As for Louise, while her mistress kept her room, she persistently declined her services on the pretext that she did not require them. Poor Louise was greatly distressed. “Madame your mother,” she said to Ernestine, “will not let me wait on her, or even go into her room. I am afraid that I have displeased her, mademoiselle; perhaps she does not like to have in her house a girl whose parents are not known.” Ernestine tried to comfort her, saying: “You are wrong. Why should you think that mamma has anything against you? No, it is this trouble of hers, it’s her nerves that make her depressed and irritable. Why, she even pushes me away now when I kiss her, and she doesn’t kiss me; that makes me unhappy too, but I am sure that mamma still loves me.” As she spoke, the sweet child shed tears, and Louise mingled hers with them, for she could think of no other consolation to give her.