“And here are your daughters,” said Josephine; and they both came and kissed her to put their existence out of doubt. “And here is your Aesculapius,” said Aubertin. “And here is your Jacintha.” “Breakfast, madame,” said Jacintha. “Breakfast, mesdemoiselles. Breakfast, monsieur:” dropping each a distinct courtesy in turn. “She has turned the conversation very agreeably,” said the baroness, and went in leaning on her old friend. But the sisters lagged behind and took several turns in silence. Rose was the first to speak. “How superstitious of you!” “I said nothing.” “No; but you looked volumes at me while mamma was telling her dream. For my part I feel sure love is stronger than hate; and we shall stay all our days in this sweet place: and O Josey! am I not a happy girl that it’s all owing to HIM!” At this moment Jacintha came running towards them. They took it for a summons to breakfast, and moved to meet her. But they soon saw she was almost as white as her apron, and she came open-mouthed and wringing her hands. “What shall I do? what shall I do? Oh, don’t let my poor mistress know!” They soon got from her that Dard had just come from the town, and learned the chateau was sold, and the proprietor coming to take possession this very day. The poor girls were stupefied by the blow. If anything, Josephine felt it worst. “It is my doing,” she gasped, and tottered fainting. Rose supported her: she shook it off by a violent effort. “This is no time for weakness,” she cried, wildly; “come to the Pleasaunce; there is water there. I love my mother. What will I not do for her? I love my mother.” Muttering thus wildly she made for the pond in the Pleasaunce. She had no sooner turned the angle of the chateau than she started back with a convulsive cry, and her momentary feebleness left her directly; she crouched against the wall and griped the ancient corner-stone with her tender hand till it powdered, and she spied with dilating eye into the Pleasaunce, Rose and Jacintha panting behind her. Two men stood with their backs turned to her looking at the oak-tree; one an officer in full uniform, the other the human snake Perrin. Though the soldier’s back was turned, his off-handed, peremptory manner told her he was inspecting the place as its master. “The baroness! the baroness!” cried Jacintha, with horror. They looked round, and the baroness was at their very backs. “What is it?” cried she, gayly. “Nothing, mamma.” “Let me see this nothing.” They glanced at one another, and, idle as the attempt was, the habit of sparing her prevailed, and they flung themselves between her and the blow. “Josephine is not well,” said Rose. “She wants to go in.” Both girls faced the baroness. “Jacintha,” said the baroness, “fetch Dr. Aubertin. There, I have sent her away. So now tell me, why do you drive me back so? Something has happened,” and she looked keenly from one to the other. “O mamma! do not go that way: there are strangers in the Pleasaunce.”