"You know how kind your mother was to him--I may say, how she doted upon him. Well, one day he announced his intention of going to Italy, with a friend he had picked up, who belonged to Naples. His mother was frantic at the idea, but he actually laughed at her, and behaved in a very unfeeling manner. Your mother was cut to the heart, and has never got over it; but, Valerie, the children who are spoiled by indulgence, always turn out the most ungrateful." "Have you heard of him since?" "Yes; he wrote to me, telling me that he was leading an orchestra in some small town, and advancing rapidly--you know his talent for music-- but not one line has he ever written to his mother." "Ah, me!" sighed I, "and that is all the return she has for her indulgence to him. Now tell me about Clara." "She is well married, and lives at Tours: her husband is an _employe_, but I don't exactly know what." "And Sophie and Elisee?" "Are both well, and promise to grow up fine girls, but not so handsome as you are, Valerie. It was the wonderful improvement in your person that made me doubt for a moment when I first saw you." "And dear little Pierre, that I used to pinch that I might get out of the house, poor fellow?" "Is a fine boy, and makes his father very melancholy, and his mother very angry, by talking about you." "And now, Auguste, one more question. On what terms are my father and mother, and how does she conduct herself?" "My father treats her with ceremony and politeness, but not with affection. She has tried every means to resume her empire over him, but finds it impossible, and she has now turned _devote_. They sleep in separate rooms, and he is very harsh and severe to her at times, when the fit comes on him. Indeed, Valerie, if you sought revenge, which I know you do not do, you have had sufficient, for her brow is wrinkled with care and mortification." "But do you think she is sorry for what she has done?" "I regret to say I do not. I think she is sorry for the consequences, but that her animosity against you would be greater than ever if she knew that you were alive, and if you were again in her power she would wreak double vengeance. Many things have occurred to confirm me in this belief. You have overthrown her power, which she never will forgive; and, as for her religion, I have no faith in that." "It is then as I feared, Auguste; and if I make known my existence to my father, it must be concealed from my mother." "I agree with you that it will be best; for there is no saying to what point the vengeance of an unnatural mother may be carried. But let us quit this subject, for the present at least, and now tell me more about yourself." "I will--but there is Lionel's knock: so I must defer it till another opportunity. Dear Auguste, give me one more kiss, while we are alone." CHAPTER TWELVE.