Clemence had noble qualities, but she was a woman, and deeply loved Rodolph, although she had resolved to bury that secret in her heart's very core. Without reflecting that this was unquestionably but one of those generous actions which the prince was accustomed to do by stealth, without considering that she was, perchance, confounding with love a sentiment that was but excess of gratitude, without considering that, even if this feeling were more tender, Rodolph must be ignorant of it, the marchioness, in the first moment of bitterness and injustice, could not help looking on Goualeuse as her rival. Her pride revolted when she believed she was suffering, in spite of herself, with such a humiliating rivalry; and she replied, in a tone so harsh as to contrast cruelly with the affectionate kindness of her first words: "And how is it, then, mademoiselle, that your protector leaves you in prison? How comes it that you are here?" "Oh, madame," said Fleur-de-Marie, struck at this sudden change of tone, "have I done anything to displease you?" "In what could you have displeased me?" asked Madame d'Harville, haughtily. "It appeared to me just now that you spoke to me so kindly, madame." "Really, mademoiselle, is it necessary that I should weigh every word I utter? Since I take an interest in you, I have, I think, a right to ask you certain questions!" Scarcely had Clemence uttered these words, than she regretted their severity; first from a praiseworthy return of generosity, and then because she thought by being harsh with her rival she might not learn any more of what she was so anxious to know. In fact, Goualeuse's countenance, just now so open and confiding, became suddenly alarmed. Like the sensitive plant, which, on the first touch, curls up its leaves and withdraws within itself, the heart of Fleur-de-Marie became painfully contracted. Clemence replied, gently, in order that she might not awaken her protegee's suspicions by too sudden a return to a milder tone: "Really I must repeat that I cannot understand why, having so much to praise your benefactor for, you are left here a prisoner. How is it that, after having returned with all sincerity to the paths of rectitude, you could have been apprehended, at night, in a forbidden place? All this, I confess to you, appears to me very extraordinary. You speak of an oath, which has bound you to silence; but this very oath is so strange!" "I have spoken the truth, madame--"