on; but he did not seem to comprehend me clearly, and
that woman, who is always intruding her opinions, chose to imagine that
he was groaning and crying out on account of what I said. The liberties
she takes become more intolerable every day; she is enough to drive your
father distracted."

"What does she mean?" asked Count Tristan, piteously. "Where do they
want to take me? I'm not going."

"My son," replied the countess, "I have informed you; but that insolent
woman prevented your understanding; we are to return very soon to
Brittany, to the Chateau de Gramont; I expect you to rejoice at this
pleasing intelligence."

"No--no, I cannot go! I cannot leave"--

He stopped as though his mother's flashing eyes checked the words ready
to burst from his lips.

"You will not have to leave _Maurice_," she said, coldly; "he is to
accompany us."

"But Madeleine! Madeleine!" he sobbed forth as if unable to restrain
himself.

The countess was on the point of replying angrily, when Maurice
interposed.

"I beg you, madame, not to excite my father by further discussion. Come,
my dear father, you are tired; it is getting late; I know it will do you
good to lie down."

And he conducted the unresisting invalid to his own chamber, leaving the
countess swelling with rage, yet glorying in the certainty that she
would carry out her plans, in spite of every opposition.

CHAPTER LIV.

AN UNEXPECTED VISIT.

Another week passed on. The day preceding that on which the countess and
her party were to set out on their journey had arrived. All the
necessary preparations were progressing duly.

Maurice, from the hour that he had learned Madeleine's secret,
had lived in such a dream of absolute happiness that he felt as
though he could ask for nothing more,--as though the cup presented
to his lips was too full of joy for the one, ungrateful drop of an
unfulfilled desire to find room. He comprehended Madeleine's character
too thoroughly,--respected all her instincts and principles of action
too entirely, again to urge his suit, or seek to obtain her promise that
she would one day be his; she _was his_ in spirit,--he could openly
recognize her as his,--that sufficed! and he believed it would still
suffice (if her sense of duty remained unaltered) through his whole
earthly existence; for all his days would be brightened by her love, and
the privilege of loving her.

Bertha, after her first, petulant outbreak, had also ceased to