of ministering
to her afflicted relative; and she could not hope that the countess
would allow her to approach him if he were removed to the hotel.

"Surely she will not be so cruel! It will harm him,--it will retard his
recovery."

"I will see her, at once, and try what argument and remonstrance can
do," replied Maurice.

And he set forth on his difficult mission.

A moment's reflection convinced Madeleine that if the countess had
received the doctor's consent, she would prove inexorable. There was no
resource but to submit as patiently as possible. Count Tristan must be
reconciled to the change, and to effect that was the task now before
her. She tried to break the news gently; she told him his mother had not
seen him of late because she had been ill; and now, hearing he was so
much better, she desired him to return to the hotel that he might be
nearer to her.

The count answered peevishly, "No--no,--I'll not go! I'm better
here,--better with you, my good angel!"

"But if Madame de Gramont is determined," said Madeleine, "I have no
right, no power to resist her authority."

"Can I not stay? Let me stay!" he pleaded, pathetically.

"I would be only too thankful if you could; but you know the wishes of
the countess cannot be disregarded."

"I cannot go! It will kill me if I go back! I am better here. I'm safe
with you! I'll not go!"

He seemed so much distressed that Madeleine dismissed the subject by
saying, "Maurice has gone to see his grandmother; we need not torment
ourselves until he returns."

The count was easily satisfied, and the remembrance of his trouble soon
faded from his mind. Madeleine asked him if she should sing, and he
nodded a pleased assent. She could not give voice to any but the saddest
melodies, for a sorrowful presentiment that she would never sing to him
again, filled her mind. She continued to charm away his cares by the
witchery of her accents until Maurice returned. The result of his
advocacy was quickly told. The countess was inflexible, and awaited her
son.

CHAPTER XLIV.

A CHANGE.

The strongest heart will sometimes betray that it is overtaxed through
the pressure of a sorrow which appears trivial contrasted with the
stupendous burdens it has borne unflinchingly; the firmest spirit is
sometimes crushed at last, by the weight of a moral "feather" that
breaks the back of endurance. Madeleine's courage proved insufficient to
encounter calmly this new trial. She c