But, must I confess it? I did a foolish thing. I disobeyed my doctor--he will not know it: besides, there is no danger in my rashness now. They had brought me my little one to kiss. Nicette was holding her in her lap. The child said in her soft voice, "Mamma!" I could resist no longer. I tore off the bandage. "My child! oh, how lovely she is!" I cried out. "I see her! oh, I see her!" [Illustration: "MY CHILD! OH, HOW LOVELY SHE IS!"] Nicette quickly put the bandage on again. But I was no longer lonely in the darkness. This cherub face, restored by memory, from that moment lighted up my night. Yesterday my mother came to dress me. We were long over my toilette. I had on a beautiful silk dress, a lace collar, my hair dressed _à la_ Marie Stuart. When my arrangements were complete, my mother said to me:-- "Take off the bandage." I obeyed, and though only a twilight prevailed in the room, I thought that I had never seen anything so beautiful. I pressed to my heart my mother, my father, and my child. "You have seen," said my father, "everybody but yourself." "And my husband," I cried out, "where is my husband?" "He is hiding," said my mother. Then I remembered his ugliness, his attire, his thin hair, and his scarred face. "Poor dear Edmond," I said, "let him come to me. He is more beautiful than Adonis." "While we are waiting for your lord and master," mamma answered, "admire yourself; look in the glass. You may admire yourself for a long time without blame, if you are to make up for lost time." I obeyed; a little from vanity, a little from curiosity. What if I was ugly? What if my plainness, like my poverty, had been concealed from me? They led me to my pier-glass. I uttered a cry of joy. With my slender figure, my complexion like a rose, my eyes a little dazed, and like two shimmering sapphires, I was charming. Nevertheless, I could not look at myself quite at my ease, for the glass was trembling without cessation, and my image reflected on its brilliant surface seemed as if it danced for joy. I looked behind the glass to see what made it tremble. A young man came out--a fine young man, with large black eyes and striking figure, whose coat was adorned by the rosette of the Legion of Honour. I blushed to think that I had been so foolish in the presence of a stranger. "Just look," said my mother to me, without taking any notice of him, "how fair you are; like a white rose." "Mamma!" I cried. "Only look at these white arms," and she pulled my sleeves above the elbow without the smallest scruple. "But, mamma," I said, "what are you thinking of, before a stranger!" "A stranger? it is a mirror." "I don't mean the glass, but this young gentleman who was behind it, like a lover in a comedy." "Eh! goose," cried my father, "you need not be so bashful. It is your husband." "Edmond!" I cried out, and made a step forward to embrace him.