"I was pale and speechless, for it seemed to me that nobody but Léodgard could have brought that plume. "But my mother instantly cried: "'A lover! so it's true that she has a lover, is it? My suspicions are well founded!--Ah! you wretched, shameless girl!' "I fell on my knees, stammering: 'Pardon! pardon! yes, I am guilty; but he will marry me! he has sworn it, and he will keep his oath!' "When they heard an avowal which doubtless they were far from expecting, my father hid his face in his hands. But my mother--oh! her wrath was terrible! She strode toward me to strike me, but I think that my father caught her arm. She heaped insults upon me, and questioned me. I was so terrified that I could not speak. "'But,' she cried, 'that villain--her seducer--who is he? Did you see him, Landry?' "'I don't understand it,' said my father; 'it was a wretched little solicitor's clerk--horribly ugly and a perfect idiot--who ran away when I thrashed him!' "I knew then, of course, that Léodgard had not brought the white plume, and I faltered: "'It is not he, father; no, I don't know the man you saw.' "'But, in that case, who is your seducer? Tell me his name--his name, instantly, that I may go and wash away in his blood the affront put upon my honor!' "My father's eyes were threatening; he meant to kill my lover; so I refused to name him. "'Very well!' said my mother; 'go and join the man for whom you have forgotten your duty; the man who has brought shame into our house; go--you can live with us no longer; you are no longer worthy to live under our roof; we turn you out. Begone!' "In the hope of moving her, I told her then that I bore within me a helpless creature, innocent of my sin! But, far from appeasing her anger, it seemed to redouble when she heard that. She called me a---- But what need is there for me to tell you more? You saw me in the street, when the storm, increasing in violence to crush me, seemed to say to me that the wrath of God had joined forces with my mother's to punish the girl who had forfeited her honor, who had brought a blush to her father's brow!" Bathilde's eyes filled with fresh tears as she finished her story. Ambroisine allowed her grief to vent itself; there are times when words of consolation buzz in our ears without reaching the heart. At last Bathilde took her friend's hand and pressed it, saying: "Forgive me for causing you so much distress. But your father--if he learns that you have taken in the child whom her parents have cursed, perhaps he too will turn me out of doors. I will remain hidden in your chamber, Ambroisine; I will not stir from it. You will not tell your father that I am here; for where should I go, if he too should turn me away?--With no roof to shelter me, I should die of grief and want. And I do not want to die, because there is a little being to whom I must give life."