With a trembling hand Violette held out the handkerchief to the woman whom a secret voice told her was her mother. Madame de Grangeville took it without turning her head, and examined it a moment; only a glance was necessary for her to recognize it; but she had already ceased to doubt that Violette was her daughter, and although she had been reflecting in silence for some moments, it was only to consider whether she should confess to the young flower girl that she was her mother. After some moments' reflection, she said to herself that there was no reason why she should recognize as her daughter a little flower girl, whose presence in her house would constantly embarrass her and incommode her, and would necessarily let everyone know that she was over thirty-five years old. Violette, who was waiting, hoping, hardly breathing while Madame de Grangeville held the handkerchief in her hands, said to her at last: "Well, madame--that handkerchief----" "It is very handsome, mademoiselle, and beautifully embroidered." As she spoke, the lady handed the handkerchief back to her; the girl could not make up her mind to take it, but said in a faltering tone: "Has madame--nothing else--to say to me?" "Why, mademoiselle, what do you suppose that I can have to say to you?" "I beg pardon; but I was led to hope--that madame--that madame knew--my mother, and that----" "Somebody has been telling you things that are utterly absurd, mademoiselle," replied Madame de Grangeville, in a very cold tone; "and you may say to those who told you that, that they have been dreaming, nothing more.--Here, take your handkerchief, I have no use for it.--Lizida! Lizida! come and dress me; I am going out." Violette understood that she had her dismissal; she rose with a heavy heart, carefully replaced the handkerchief in her breast; and as she bowed to Madame de Grangeville, she said to her in a voice choked by sobs: "Adieu, madame; forgive me for weeping before you, but I hoped to find my mother here." "Adieu, mademoiselle; take my advice, and think no more about that; don't foster any such fancies in your head; and when you see Monsieur de Merval, tell him that he is mistaken, completely mistaken." Violette went away, weeping bitterly; and in that condition she returned to Monsieur de Brevanne and told him of her interview with Madame de Grangeville. The count pressed the young girl to his heart, saying: "Poor child! the woman who gave you life is unworthy of your love, of your caresses; but if you have not found your mother, be comforted; I will take the place of your family, and I will never abandon you." The count had been trying to comfort Violette but a few moments, when the door of his apartment was violently thrown open, and Georget appeared, out of breath, drenched with perspiration, and with joy gleaming in his eyes.