plays as he studies his new master. Ah! monsieur, what a wondrous
change! A mask seemed to have fallen from the count's face; his lips
quivered, a tender light beamed in his eyes, and he drew me to him,
exclaiming: 'Oh, Marguerite! my beloved Marguerite! At last--at last!'
He sobbed--this old man, whom I had thought as cold and as insensible as
marble; he crushed me in his close embrace, he almost smothered me
with kisses. And I was frightfully agitated by the strange, indefinable
feeling, kindled in my heart; but I no longer trembled with fear.
An inward voice whispered that this was but the renewal of a former
tie--one which had somehow been mysteriously broken. However, as I
remembered the superior's assertion that it was a miracle in my favor--a
wonderful interposition of Providence, I had courage enough to ask: 'So
it was not chance that guided you in your choice?'

"My question seemed to take him by surprise. 'Poor Marguerite!' he
murmured, 'dearly beloved child! for years I have been laboring to bring
about this chance!' Instantly all the romantic stories I had heard in
the asylum recurred to my mind. And Heaven knows there are plenty of
these stories transmitted by the sisters from generation to generation,
till they have become a sort of Golden Legend for poor foundlings. That
sad formula, 'Father and mother unknown,' which figures on certificates
of birth, acts as a dangerous stimulant for unhealthy imaginations, and
leaves an open door for the most extravagant hopes. And thus influenced,
I fixed my eyes on the face of the Count de Chalusse, striving to
discover some resemblance in his features to my own. But he did not
seem to notice my intent gaze, and following his train of thought, he
muttered: 'Chance! It was necessary that they should think so, and
they did think so. And yet the cleverest detectives in Paris, from old
Tabaret to Fortunat, both masters in the art of following up a clue, had
exhausted their resources in helping me in my despairing search.' The
agony of suspense I was enduring had become intolerable; and unable
to restrain myself longer, I exclaimed, with a wildly throbbing heart:
'Then, you are my father, Monsieur le Comte?' He pressed his hand to my
lips with such violence that he hurt me, and then, in a voice quivering
with excitement, he replied: 'Imprudent girl! What can you mean?
Forget that unfortunate idea. Never utter the name of father--you hear
me--never! I forbid it!' He had beco