She seemed not to understand, shrank from him, withdrew her
hand. What torture! But the most terrible moment of all was the arrival
in Rue de Braque, where the whole house was in a state of commotion, and
the inquisitive curiosity of the neighbors must be endured. Early in the
morning the whole quarter had been informed of her disappearance. It
was rumored that she had gone away with Frantz Risler. The illustrious
Delobelle had gone forth very early, intensely agitated, with his
hat awry and rumpled wristbands, a sure indication of extraordinary
preoccupation; and the concierge, on taking up the provisions, had found
the poor mother half mad, running from one room to another, looking for
a note from the child, for any clew, however unimportant, that would
enable her at least to form some conjecture.

Suddenly a carriage stopped in front of the door. Voices and footsteps
echoed through the hall.

"M'ame Delobelle, here she is! Your daughter's been found."

It was really Desiree who came toiling up the stairs on the arm of a
stranger, pale and fainting, without hat or shawl, and wrapped in a
great brown cape. When she saw her mother she smiled at her with an
almost foolish expression.

"Do not be alarmed, it is nothing," she tried to say, then sank to the
floor. Mamma Delobelle would never have believed that she was so strong.
To lift her daughter, take her into the room, and put her to bed was a
matter of a moment; and she talked to her and kissed her.

"Here you are at last. Where have you come from, you bad child? Tell
me, is it true that you tried to kill yourself? Were you suffering so
terribly? Why did you conceal it from me?"

When she saw her mother in that condition, with tear-stained face, aged
in a few short hours, Desiree felt a terrible burden of remorse. She
remembered that she had gone away without saying good-by to her, and
that in the depths of her heart she had accused her of not loving her.

Not loving her!

"Why, it would kill me if you should die," said the poor mother. "Oh!
when I got up this morning and saw that your bed hadn't been slept in
and that you weren't in the workroom either!--I just turned round and
fell flat. Are you warm now? Do you feel well? You won't do it again,
will you--try to kill yourself?"

And she tucked in the bed-clothes, rubbed her feet, and rocked her upon
her breast.

As she lay in bed with her eyes closed, Desiree saw anew all the
incidents of her suicide, al