an ever. Will you not?"

"Yes; but why?"

"I must not worry you; and I must not wrong myself either--you know why!"

"Yes; but I implore you, my darling, to tell me."

"Very well; I will tell you everything; but, mother, you must be brave as
I am."

She buried her head lower still on her mother's breast, and recounted to
her, in a low voice, without looking up once, the terrible revelation
which had been made to her, and which her husband's avowal had confirmed.

Madame de Tecle did not once interrupt her during this cruel recital. She
only imprinted a kiss on her hair from time to time. The young Countess,
who did not dare to raise her eyes to her, as if she were ashamed of
another's crime, might have imagined that she had exaggerated the gravity
of her misfortune, since her mother had received the confidence with so
much calmness. But the calmness of Madame de Tecle at this terrible
moment was that of the martyrs; for all that could have been suffered by
the Christians under the claws of the tiger, or on the rack of the
torturer, this mother was suffering at the hands of her best-beloved
daughter. Her beautiful pale face--her large eyes upturned to heaven,
like those that artists give to the pure victims kneeling in the Roman
circus--seemed to ask God whether He really had any consolation for such
torture.

When she had heard all, she summoned strength to smile at her daughter,
who at last looked up to her with an expression of timid
uncertainty--embracing her more tightly still.

"Well, my darling," said she, at last, "it is a great affliction, it is
true. You are right, notwithstanding; there is nothing to despair of."

"Do you really believe so?"

"Certainly. There is some inconceivable mystery under all this; but be
assured that the evil is not so terrible as it appears."

"My poor mother! but he has acknowledged it?"

"I am better pleased that he has acknowledged it. That proves he has yet
some pride, and that some good is left in his soul. Then, too, he feels
very much afflicted--he suffers as much as we. Think of that. Let us
think of the future, my darling."

They clasped each other's hands, and smiled at each other to restrain the
tears which filled the eyes of both. After a few minutes--"I wish much,
my child," said Madame de Tecle, "to repose for half an hour; and then
also I wish to arrange my toilet."

"I will conduct you to your chamber. Oh, I can walk! I feel a great deal
better."

Ma