very brave and cheerful when my Natalie comes to me. I
must make her laugh, not cry."
"Madame," said he, gravely, "I may have but a few days longer in
England: do you think it is wise to put off the opportunity? You see,
she must be prepared; it would be a terrible shock if she were to know
suddenly. And how can one tell what may happen to-morrow or next day? At
the present moment I know she is at home; I could bring her to you
directly."
"Just now?" she said; and she began to tremble again. She rose and went
to a mirror.
"She could not recognize herself in me. She would not believe me. And I
should frighten her with my mourning and my sadness."
"I do not think you need fear, madame."
She turned to him eagerly.
"Perhaps you would explain to her? Ah, would you be so kind! Tell her I
have seen much trouble of late. My father has just died, after years of
illness; and we were kept in perpetual terror. You will tell her why I
dared not go to her before: oh no! not that--not that!"
"You forget, madame, that I myself do not know."
"It is better she should not know--better she should not know!" she
said, rapidly. "No, let the girl have confidence in her father while she
remains in his house. Perhaps some time she may know; perhaps some one
who is a fairer judge than I will tell her the story and make excuses:
it must be that there is some excuse."
"She will not want to know; she will only want to come to you."
"But half an hour, give me half an hour," she said, and she glanced
round the room. "It is so poor a chamber."
"She will not think of the chamber."
"And the little girl with her--she will remain down-stairs, will she
not? I wish to be alone, quite alone, with my child." Her breath came
and went quickly, and she clasped her fingers tight. "Oh, monsieur, my
heart will break if my child is cold to me!"
"That is the last thing you have to fear," said he, and he rose. "Now
calm yourself, madame. Recollect, you must not frighten your daughter.
And it will be more than half an hour before I bring her to you; it will
take more than that for me to break it to her."
She rose also; but she was obviously so excited that she did not know
well what she was doing. All her thoughts were about the forth-coming
interview.
"You are sure she understands the Magyar?" she said again.
"No, I do not know. But why not speak in French to her?"
"It does not sound the same--it does not sound the same: and a
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