hat frail body? No one! Like
me, you are alone on earth."

She sighed and wept. The graceful pose of her child lying on her knees
made her smile sadly. She looked at him long, tasting one of those
pleasures which are a secret between mothers and God. Etienne's weakness
was so great that until he was a year and a half old she had never
dared to take him out of doors; but now the faint color which tinted the
whiteness of his skin like the petals of a wild rose, showed that life
and health were already there.

One morning the countess, giving herself up to the glad joy of all
mothers when their first child walks for the first time, was playing
with Etienne on the floor when suddenly she heard the heavy step of a
man upon the boards. Hardly had she risen with a movement of involuntary
surprise, when the count stood before her. She gave a cry, but
endeavored instantly to undo that involuntary wrong by going up to him
and offering her forehead for a kiss.

"Why not have sent me notice of your return?" she said.

"My reception would have been more cordial, but less frank," he answered
bitterly.

Suddenly he saw the child. The evident health in which he found it wrung
from him a gesture of surprise mingled with fury. But he repressed his
anger, and began to smile.

"I bring good news," he said. "I have received the governorship of
Champagne and the king's promise to be made duke and peer. Moreover,
we have inherited a princely fortune from your cousin; that cursed
Huguenot, Georges de Chaverny is killed."

The countess turned pale and dropped into a chair. She saw the secret of
the devilish smile on her husband's face.

"Monsieur," she said in a voice of emotion, "you know well that I loved
my cousin Chaverny. You will answer to God for the pain you inflict upon
me."

At these words the eye of the count glittered; his lips trembled, but
he could not utter a word, so furious was he; he flung his dagger on the
table with such violence that the metal resounded like a thunder-clap.

"Listen to me," he said in his strongest voice, "and remember my words.
I will never see or hear the little monster you hold in your arms. He
is your child, and not mine; there is nothing of me in him. Hide him, I
say, hide him from my sight, or--"

"Just God!" cried the countess, "protect us!"

"Silence!" said her husband. "If you do not wish me to throttle him, see
that I never find him in my way."

"Then," said the countess gathering