Lincoln with those
passionate kisses inspired at that moment with an inexplicable horror,
had, however, enough presence of mind in the midst of her suffering
to understand the danger of that mother whom she had surprised thus,
clasping in the arms of a guilty mistress--whom?--the husband of the
very woman speaking to her, who asked her why she trembled with fear,
who would look through that same hole to see that same tableau!...
In order to prevent what she believed would be to Lydia a terrible
revelation, the courageous child had one of those desperate thoughts
such as immediate peril inspires. With her free hand she struck the
glass so violently that it was shivered into atoms, cutting her fingers
and her wrist.

Lydia exclaimed, angrily:

"Miserable girl, you did that purposely!"

The fierce creature as she uttered these words, rushed toward the large
hole now made in the panel--too late!

She only saw Lincoln erect in the centre of the studio, looking toward
the broken window, while the Countess, standing a few paces from him,
exclaimed:

"My daughter! What has happened to my daughter? I recognized her voice."

"Do not alarm yourself," replied Lydia, with atrocious sarcasm. "Alba
broke the pane to give you a warning."

"But, is she hurt?" asked the mother.

"Very slightly," replied the implacable woman with the same accent of
irony, and she turned again toward the Contessina with a glance of such
rancor that, even in the state of confusion in which the latter was
plunged by that which she had surprised, that glance paralyzed her with
fear. She felt the same shudder which had possessed her dear friend
Maud, in that same studio, in the face of the sinister depths of that
dark soul, suddenly exposed. She had not time to precisely define her
feelings, for already her mother was beside her, pressing her in her
arms--in those very arms which Alba had just seen twined around the neck
of a lover--while that same mouth showered kisses upon him. The
moral shock was so great that the young girl fainted. She regained
consciousness and almost at once. She saw her mother as mad with anxiety
as she had just seen her trembling with joy and love. She again saw
Lydia Maitland's eyes fixed upon them both with an expression too
significant now. And, as she had had the presence of mind to save that
guilty mother, she found in her tenderness the strength to smile at
her, to lie to her, to blind her forever as to the truth of t