on of any fault by throwing herself impulsively into the arms of
her little mamma, and asking her to forget whatever she had done to
displease her, for she had not done it on purpose. She would do the same
thing now. Putting aside all pride and obstinacy, she would go to this
mamma, who, for some days, had seemed so different. She would smother her
in kisses. She might possibly be repelled at first. She would not mind
it. She was sure that in the end she would be forgiven.
No sooner was this resolution formed than she hastened to put it into
execution. It was the time of day when Madame de Nailles was usually
alone. Jacqueline went to her bedchamber, but she was not there, and a
moment after she stood on the threshold of the little salon. There she
stopped short, not quite certain how she should proceed, asking herself
what would be her reception.
"How shall I do it?" she thought. "How had I better do it?"
"Bah!" she answered these doubts. "It will be very easy. I will go in on
tiptoe, so that she can't hear me. I will slip behind her chair, and I
will hug her suddenly, so tight, so tenderly, and kiss her till she tells
me that all has been forgiven."
As she thought thus Jacqueline noiselessly opened the door of the salon,
over which, on the inner side, hung a thick plush 'portiere'. But as she
was about to lift it, the sound of a voice within made her stand
motionless. She recognized the tones of Marien. He was pleading,
imploring, interrupted now and then by the sharp and still angry voice of
her mamma. They were not speaking above their breath, but if she listened
she could hear them, and, without any scruples of conscience, she did
listen intently, anxious to see her way through the dark fog in which,
for twelve days, she had wandered.
"I do not go quite so far as that," said Madame de Nailles, dryly. "It is
enough for me that she produced an illusion of such beauty upon you. Now
I know what to expect--"
"That is nonsense," replied Marien--"mere foolishness. You jealous!
jealous of a baby whom I knew when she wore white pinafores, who has
grown up under my very eyes? But, so far as I am concerned, she exists no
longer. She is not, she never will be in my eyes, a woman. I shall think
of her as playing with her doll, eating sugar-plums, and so on."
Jacqueline grew faint. She shivered and leaned against the door-post.
"One would not suppose so, to judge by the picture with which she has
inspired you. Yo
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