me air of haughty
reserve, that had so awed me on the occasion of our first meeting. He
scarcely deigned to look at me, and although I watched him with poignant
anxiety, I could read neither blame nor approval on his face. 'You see
that your wishes have been scrupulously obeyed, Monsieur le Comte,' said
the superior. 'I thank you,' he replied; 'and I shall prove the extent
of my gratitude to the poor children under your charge.' Then, turning
to me: 'Marguerite,' he said, 'take leave of--your mothers, and tell
them that you will never forget their kindness.'"

The girl paused, for her emotion had rendered her words almost
unintelligible. But, with an effort, she speedily conquered her
weakness.

"It was only then," she continued, "that I realized how much I loved
these poor nuns, whom I had sometimes almost cursed. I felt now how
close the ties were, that bound me to this hospitable roof, and to these
unfortunate children, my companions in misery and loneliness. It seemed
to me as if my heart were breaking; and the superior, who was generally
so impassible, appeared scarcely less moved than myself. At last, M. de
Chalusse took me by the hand and led me away. In the street there was a
carriage waiting for us, not such a beautiful one as that which had been
sent to fetch me from my workshop, but a much larger one, with trunks
and boxes piled on its roof. It was drawn by four gray horses. I felt
more dead than alive, as I entered the carriage and took the seat which
the count pointed out. He sat down opposite to me. All the sisters had
assembled at the door of the asylum, and even the superior wept without
making any attempt to hide her tears. 'Farewell!' they all cried;
'farewell, farewell, dear child! Don't forget your old friends. We shall
pray for your happiness.' Alas! God could not have heard their prayers.
At a sign from M. de Chalusse, a footman closed the door, the postilions
cracked their whips, and the heavy vehicle rolled away.

"The die was cast. Henceforth, an impassable gulf was to separate me
from this asylum, whither I had been carried in my infancy half dead,
and wrapped in swaddling clothes, from which every mark that could
possibly lead to identification had been carefully cut away. Whatever my
future might prove, I felt that my past was gone forever. But I was
too greatly agitated even to think; and crouching in a corner of the
carriage, I watched M. de Chalusse with the poignant anxiety a slave
dis