at her earnestly, but without
speaking. The pale moon had disappeared from sight behind the Cathedral,
and the flying, misty clouds were now delicately coloured in the heavens
by the approach of the dawn. They were both of them enveloped in this
purity of the early morn, in the great fresh silence, which was alone
disturbed by the little chirping of the just-awakening birds.

"But alas! my dear child, happiness is only found in obedience and in
humility. For one little hour of passion, or of pride, we sometimes are
obliged to suffer all our lives. If you wish to be contented on this
earth, be submissive, be ready to renounce and give up everything."

But feeling that she was still rebellious under her embrace, that which
she had never said to anyone, that which she still hesitated to speak
of, almost involuntarily escaped from her lips:

"Listen to me once more, my dear child. You think that we are happy,
do you not, your father and I. We should indeed be so had not our lives
been embittered by a great vexation."

She lowered her voice still more, as she related with a trembling breath
their history. The marriage without the consent of her mother, the death
of their infant, and their vain desire to have another child, which was
evidently the punishment of their fault. Still, they adored each other.
They had lived by working, had wanted for nothing; but their regret for
the child they had lost was so ever-present that they would have been
wretchedly unhappy, would have quarrelled, and perhaps even have been
separated, had it not been that her husband was so thoroughly good,
while for herself she had always tried to be just and reasonable.

"Reflect, my daughter. Do not put any stumbling-block in your path which
will make you suffer later on. Be humble, obey, check the impulse of
your heart as much as possible."

Subdued at last, Angelique restrained her tears, but grew very pale as
she listened, and interrupted her by saying:

"Mother, you pain me terribly. I love him, and I am sure that he loves
me."

Then she allowed her tears to flow. She was quite overcome by all she
had listened to, softened, and with an expression in her eyes as if
deeply wounded by the glimpse given her of the probable truth of the
case. Yet she could suffer, and would willingly die, if need be, for her
love.

Then Hubertine decided to continue.

"I do not wish to pain you too deeply at once, yet it is absolutely
necessary that you sho