"Refuse me not, I conjure you!" responded Rodolph, in an agitated and suppliant tone. "By the love I bear you, I beseech you to make me happy by saying, 'Our daughter comes!'" "Then be it _our_ daughter, if such is your sincere wish," murmured Clemence, as Murphy, throwing open the door, introduced Fleur-de-Marie into the salon. The astonished girl had, upon entering the immense hotel from the spacious portico under which she alighted from the marquise's carriage, first crossed an anteroom filled with servants dressed in rich liveries; then a waiting-room, in which were other domestics belonging to the establishment, also wearing the magnificent livery of the house of Gerolstein; and lastly, the apartment in which the chamberlain and aides-de-camp of the prince attended his orders. The surprise and wonder of the poor Goualeuse, whose ideas of splendour were based on the recollection of the farm at Bouqueval, as she traversed those princely chambers glittering with gold, silver, paintings, and mirrors, may easily be imagined. Directly she appeared, Madame d'Harville ran towards her, kindly took her hand, and throwing her arm around her waist, as though to support her, led her towards Rodolph, who remained supporting himself by leaning one arm on the chimneypiece, wholly incapable of advancing a single step. Having consigned Fleur-de-Marie to the care of Madame d'Harville, Murphy hastily retreated behind one of the large window curtains, not feeling too sure of his own self-command. At the sight of him who was, in the eyes of Fleur-de-Marie, not only her benefactor but the worshipped idol of her heart, the poor girl, whose delicate frame had been so severely tried by illness, became seized with a universal trembling. "Compose yourself, my child!" said Madame d'Harville. "See, there is your kind M. Rodolph, who has been extremely uneasy on your account, and is most anxious to see you." "Oh, yes--uneasy, indeed!" stammered forth Rodolph, whose breast was wrung with anguish at the sight of his child's pale, suffering looks, and, spite of his previous resolution, the prince found himself compelled to turn away his head to conceal his deep emotion. "My poor child!" said Madame d'Harville, striving to divert the attention of Fleur-de-Marie, "you are still very weak!" and, leading her to a large gilded armchair, she made her sit down, while the astonished Goualeuse seemed almost to shrink from touching the elegant cushions with which it was lined. But she did not recover herself; on the contrary, she seemed oppressed. She strove to speak, but her voice failed her, and her heart reproached her with not having said one word to her venerated benefactor of the deep gratitude which filled her whole soul.