."

"No, no," cried Madelon, suddenly rousing, and starting up at
these last words. She had comprehended what the Sister had
told her well enough so far as words went, but she was too
stunned and confused to take in their full meaning; and in
truth her presence there at all had only been another
unfamiliar element in this bewildering whirl of events,
imparting an additional sense of unreality. But when she
mentioned Madame Lavaux, the name linked itself at once with
recent memories and emotions, and its accustomed association
with her every-day life made it a rallying point, as it were,
for her scattered ideas. Madame Lavaux had been cross and
unkind to her the night before; Madame had buoyed her up with
false hopes of her father's recovery only that morning;
Madelon did not want her, would not see her. She stood still
for a few minutes after the Soeur de Charite had left the room,
all her sorrows and doubts and certainties resolved for the
moment into a dull, unreasoning dread of seeing Madame Lavaux
come in; and then, suddenly fancying she heard footsteps
approaching the door, she hastily blew out her candle, and all
dressed as she was, crept under the coverlet of the bed. She
would pretend to be asleep, she thought, and then no one would
disturb her. The footsteps passed on, but presently the door
did open, and some one looked in: it was Madame Lavaux, who,
seeing that Madelon made no sign, concluded that she was
asleep, and went away softly, with a kind pity in her heart
for the desolate child. As for Madelon, the pretence of
slumber soon passed into reality, for, after lying awake for a
while listening to the low voices and rustling movements in
the next room, fatigue and her own enforced tranquillity
overcame her, and she fell sound asleep.

It must have been long past midnight when she awoke again with
a sudden feeling of fright and strangeness, for which she
could not account, but which made her spring off the bed and
listen if she could hear any one moving. All was very still;
not a sound came from the adjoining apartment; her own room
was quite dark, for the windows and outside shutters were
closed. Madelon felt scared, lonely, desolate, without knowing
why; and then, all at once, she remembered the reason. All
that the Sister had said came back with fresh meaning and
distinctness to her senses restored by sleep; and, sitting
down on the floor just where she was, she began to cry with a
low moaning, sob