formerly had, and cause him to invoke
that lost paradise and that heart full of forgiveness, of love and of
goodness, which had not forgotten him, but which would respond to his
first appeal?

And that confidence of hers in a happier future, which neither all the
proofs of that connection, in which Monsieur d'Hardermes was becoming
more and more involved, and which her friends so kindly furnished her
with, nor the disdainful silence with which he treated all her gentle,
indulgent letters could shake, had something touching, angelic in it,
and reminded those who knew her well, of certain passages in the _Lives
of the Saints_.

At length, however, the sympathy of those who had so often tried to save
the young woman, to cure her, and to open her eyes, became exhausted,
and, left to herself, Suzanne proudly continued her dream, and absorbed
herself in it.

Two interminable years had passed since she had lived with Monsieur
d'Hardermes, and since he had put that hateful mistress in her place.
She had lost all trace of them, knew nothing about him, and, in spite of
everything, did not despair of seeing him again, and regaining her hold
over him, who could tell when, or by what miracle, but surely before
those eyes which he had so loved were tired of shedding tears, and her
fair hair, which he had so often covered with kisses, had grown white.

And the arrival of the postman every morning and evening, made her start
and shiver with nervousness.

One day, however, when she was going to Paris, Madame d'Hardermes found
herself alone in the ladies' carriage, into which she had got in a
hurry, with a peasant woman in her Sunday best, who had a child with
pretty pink cheeks and rosy lips, and which was like the dimpled cherubs
that one sees in pictures of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, on her
lap.

The nurse said affectionate words to the child in a coaxing voice,
wrapped it up in the folds of her large cloak, sometimes gave it a
noisy, hearty kiss, and it beat the air with little hands, and crowed
and laughed with those pretty, attractive babyish movements, that
Suzanne could not help exclaiming: "Oh! the pretty little thing!" and
taking it into her arms.

At first the child was surprised at the strange face, and for a moment,
seemed as if it were going to cry; but it became reassured immediately,
smiled at the stranger who looked at it so kindly, inhaled the delicate
scent of the iris in the bodice of her dress, with