here the gold fillings
shone, and she was disturbed to note the livid gums and the yellow tint
of the flesh above the cheeks and at the temples.

She was so lost in this examination of her fading beauty that she did
not hear the door open, and was startled when her maid, standing behind
her, said:

"Madame has forgotten to take her tea."

The Countess turned, confused, surprised, ashamed, and the servant,
guessing her thoughts continued:

"Madame has wept too much; there is nothing worse to spoil the skin.
One's blood turns to water."

And as the Countess added sadly: "There is age also," the maid
exclaimed: "Oh, but Madame has not reached that time yet! With a few
days of rest not a trace will be left. But Madame must go to walk, and
take great care not to weep."

As soon as she was dressed the Countess descended to the park, and for
the first time since her mother's death she visited the little orchard
where long ago she had liked to cultivate and gather flowers; then she
went to the river and strolled beside the stream until the hour for
breakfast.

She sat down at the table opposite her husband, and beside her daughter,
and remarked, that she might know what they thought: "I feel better
today. I must be less pale."

"Oh, you still look very ill," said the Count.

Her heart contracted and she felt like weeping, for she had fallen into
the habit of it.

Until evening, and the next day, and all the following days, whether she
thought of her mother or of herself, every moment she felt her throat
swelling with sobs and her eyes filling with tears, but to prevent them
from overflowing and furrowing her cheeks she repressed them, and by
a superhuman effort of will turned her thoughts in other directions,
mastered them, ruled them, separated them from her sorrow, forced
herself to feel consoled, tried to amuse herself and to think of sad
things no more, in order to regain the hue of health.

Above all, she did not wish to return to Paris and to receive Olivier
Bertin until she had become more like her former self. Realizing that
she had grown too thin, that the flesh of women of her age needs to be
full in order to keep fresh, she sought to create appetite by walking
in the woods and along the roads; and though she returned weary and not
hungry she forced herself to eat a great deal.

The Count, who wished to go away, could not understand her obstinacy.
Finally, as her resistance seemed invincible, he declar