yes, and perceived that his housekeeper was
beautifully made.

On the stairs she met with the housemaid.

"Where is Miss Minna?" she asked impatiently. "In her room?"

"In your room, madam. I saw Miss Minna go in as I passed the door."

Madame Fontaine hurried up the next flight of stairs, and ran along the
corridor as lightly as a young girl. The door of her room was ajar; she
saw her daughter through the opening sitting on the sofa, with some work
lying idle on her lap. Minna started up when her mother appeared.

"Am I in the way, mamma? I am so stupid, I can't get on with this
embroidery----"

Madame Fontaine tossed the embroidery to the other end of the room, threw
her arms round Minna, and lifted her joyously from the floor as if she
had been a little child.

"The day is fixed, my angel!" she cried; "You are to be married on the
thirtieth!"

She shifted one hand to her daughter's head, and clasped it with a fierce
fondness to her bosom. "Oh, my darling, you had lovely hair even when you
were a baby! We won't have it dressed at your wedding. It shall flow down
naturally in all its beauty--and no hand shall brush it but mine." She
pressed her lips on Minna's head, and devoured it with kisses; then,
driven by some irresistible impulse, pushed the girl away from her, and
threw herself on the sofa with a cry of pain.

"Why did you start up, as if you were afraid of me, when I came in?" she
said wildly. "Why did you ask if you were in the way? Oh, Minna! Minna!
can't you forget the day when I locked you out of my room? My child! I
was beside myself--I was mad with my troubles. Do you think I would
behave harshly to you? Oh, my own love! when I came to tell you of your
marriage, why did you ask me if you were in the way? My God! am I never
to know a moment's pleasure again without something to embitter it?
People say you take after your father, Minna. Are you as cold-blooded as
he was? There! there! I don't mean it; I am a little hysterical, I
think--don't notice me. Come and be a child again. Sit on my knee, and
let us talk of your marriage."

Minna put her arm round her mother's neck a little nervously. "Dear,
sweet mamma, how can you think me so hard-hearted and so ungrateful? I
can't tell you how I love you! Let this tell you."

With a tender and charming grace, she kissed her mother--then drew back a
little and looked at Madame Fontaine. The subsiding conflict of emotions
still showed itself with a fiery