dread--which must have been terrible indeed, my
poor child! And then, the amethyst ring on your finger confirmed, past
any possibility of doubt, what my heart had told me, when first my eyes
beheld you in the theatre."

"I pray you to believe, dear lord and father," answered Isabelle, "that
I have never accused you of anything, nor considered myself neglected.
Accustomed from my infancy to the roving life of the troupe I was with,
I neither knew nor dreamed of any other. The little knowledge that I had
of the world made me realize that I should be wrong in wishing to
force myself upon an illustrious family, obliged doubtless by powerful
reasons, of which I knew nothing, to leave me in obscurity. The confused
remembrance I had of my origin sometimes inspired me--when I was very
young--with a certain pride, and I would say to myself, when I noticed
the disdainful air with which great ladies looked down upon us poor
actresses, I also am of noble birth. But I outgrew those fancies,
and only preserved an invincible self-respect, which I have always
cherished. Nothing in the world would have induced me to dishonour the
illustrious blood that flows in my veins. The disgraceful license of the
coulisses, and the loathsome gallantries lavished upon all actresses,
even those who are not comely, disgusted me from the first, and I have
lived in the theatre almost as if in a convent. The good old pedant
has been like a watchful father to me, and as for Herode, he would have
severely chastised any one who dared to touch me with the tip of his
finger, or even to pronounce a vulgar word in my presence. Although they
are only obscure actors, they are very honourable, worthy men, and I
trust you will be good enough to help them if they ever find themselves
in need of assistance. I owe it partly to them that I can lift my
forehead for your kiss without a blush of shame, and proudly declare
myself worthy, so far as purity is concerned, to be your daughter. My
only regret is to have been the innocent cause of the misfortune that
has overtaken the duke, your son. I could have wished to enter your
family, my dear father, under more favourable auspices."

"You have nothing to reproach yourself with, my sweet child, for you
could not divine these mysteries, which have been suddenly disclosed
by a combination of circumstances that would be considered romantic
and improbable, even in a novel; and my joy at finding you as worthy
in every way to be