uman strength.

A passage broken, less than a minute was required for her to seize her
daughter by the middle of her body, and draw her into her cell. "Come
let me draw you out of the abyss," she murmured.

When her daughter was inside the cell, she laid her gently on the
ground, then raised her up again, and bearing her in her arms as though
she were still only her little Agnes, she walked to and fro in her
little room, intoxicated, frantic, joyous, crying out, singing, kissing
her daughter, talking to her, bursting into laughter, melting into
tears, all at once and with vehemence.

"My daughter! my daughter!" she said. "I have my daughter! here she is!
The good God has given her back to me! Ha you! come all of you! Is there
any one there to see that I have my daughter? Lord Jesus, how beautiful
she is! You have made me wait fifteen years, my good God, but it was in
order to give her back to me beautiful.--Then the gypsies did not eat
her! Who said so? My little daughter! my little daughter! Kiss me. Those
good gypsies! I love the gypsies!--It is really you! That was what made
my heart leap every time that you passed by. And I took that for hatred!
Forgive me, my Agnes, forgive me. You thought me very malicious, did
you not? I love you. Have you still the little mark on your neck? Let
us see. She still has it. Oh! you are beautiful! It was I who gave you
those big eyes, mademoiselle. Kiss me. I love you. It is nothing to me
that other mothers have children; I scorn them now. They have only to
come and see. Here is mine. See her neck, her eyes, her hair, her hands.
Find me anything as beautiful as that! Oh! I promise you she will have
lovers, that she will! I have wept for fifteen years. All my beauty has
departed and has fallen to her. Kiss me."

She addressed to her a thousand other extravagant remarks, whose accent
constituted their sole beauty, disarranged the poor girl's garments even
to the point of making her blush, smoothed her silky hair with her hand,
kissed her foot, her knee, her brow, her eyes, was in raptures over
everything. The young girl let her have her way, repeating at intervals
and very low and with infinite tenderness, "My mother!"

"Do you see, my little girl," resumed the recluse, interspersing her
words with kisses, "I shall love you dearly? We will go away from here.
We are going to be very happy. I have inherited something in Reims, in
our country. You know Reims? Ah! no, you do not know i