te　of　suffering；　she　had　begged　Moina　to　repeat　some　remark　which　she　had　failed　to　catch；　and　Moina　obeyed；　but　with　so　bad　a　grace；　the　Mme。　d'Aiglemont　had　never　permitted　herself　to　make　her　modest　request　again。　Ever　since　that　day　when　Moina　was　talking　or　retailing　a　piece　of　news；　her　mother　was　careful　to　come　near　to　listen；　but　this　infirmity　of　deafness　appeared　to　put　the　Countess　out　of　patience；　and　she　would　grumble　thoughtlessly　about　it。　This　instance　is　one　from　among　very　many　that　must　have　gone　to　the　mother's　heart；　and　yet　nearly　all　of　them　might　have　escaped　a　close　observer；　they　consisted　in　faint　shades　of　manner　invisible　to　any　but　a　woman's　eyes。　Take　another　example。　Mme。　d'Aiglemont　happened　to　say　one　day　that　the　Princesse　de　Cadignan　had　called　upon　her。　〃Did　she　come　to　see　/you/！〃　Moina　exclaimed。　That　was　all；　but　the　Countess'　voice　and　manner　expressed　surprise　and　well…bred　contempt　in　semitones。　Any　heart；　still　young　and　sensitive；　might　well　have　applauded　the　philanthropy　of　savage　tribes　who　kill　off　their　old　people　when　they　grow　too　feeble　to　cling　to　a　strongly　shaken　bough。　Mme。　d'Aiglemont　rose　smiling；　and　went　away　to　weep　alone。
  Well…bred　people；　and　women　especially；　only　betray　their　feelings　by　imperceptible　touches；　but　those　who　can　look　back　over　their　own　experience　on　such　bruises　as　this　mother's　heart　received；　know　also　how　the　heart…strings　vibrate　to　these　light　touches。　Overcome　by　her　memories；　Mme。　d'Aiglemont　recollected　one　of　those　microscopically　small　things；　so　stinging　and　so　painful　was　it　that　never　till　this　moment　had　she　felt　all　the　heartless　contempt　that　lurked　beneath　smiles。
  At　the　sound　of　shutters　thrown　back　at　her　daughter's　windows；　she　dried　her　tears；　and　hastened　up　the　pathway　by　the　railings。　As　she　went；　it　struck　her　that　the　gardener　had　been　unusually　careful　to　rake　the　sand　along　the　walk　which　had　been　neglected　for　some　little　time。　As　she　stood　under　her　daughter's　windows；　the　shutters　were　hastily　closed。
  〃Moina；　is　it　you？〃　she　asked。
  No　answer。
  The　Marquise　went　on　into　the　house。
  〃Mme。　la　Comtesse　is　in　the　little　drawing…room；〃　said　the　maid；　when　the　Marquise　asked　whether　Mme。　de　Saint…Hereen　had　finished　dressing。
  Mme。　d'Aiglemont　hurried　to　the　little　drawing…room；　her　heart　was　too　full；　her　brain　too　busy　to　notice　matters　so　slight；　but　there　on　the　sofa　sat　the　Countess　in　her　loose　morning…gown；　her　hair　in　disorder　under　the　cap　tossed　carelessly　on　he　head；　her　feet　thrust　into　slippers。　The　key　of　her　bedroom　hung　at　her　girdle。　Her　face；　aglow　with　color；　bore　traces　of　almost　stormy　thought。
  〃What　makes　people　come　in！〃　she　cried；　crossly。　〃Oh！　it　is　you；　mother；〃　she　interrupted　herself；　with　a　preoccupied　look。
  〃Yes；　child；　it　is　your　mother〃
  Something　in　her　tone　turned　those　words　into　an　outpouring　of　the　heart；　the　cry　of　some　deep　inward　feeling；　only　to　be　described　by　the　word　〃holy。〃　So　thoroughly　in　truth　had　she　rehabilitated　the　sacred　character　of　a　mother；　that　her　daughter　was　impressed；　and　turned　towards　her；　with　something　of　awe；　uneasiness；　and　remorse　in　her　manner。　The　room　was　the　furthest　of　a　suite；　and　safe　from　indiscreet　intrusion；　for　no　one　could　enter　it　without　giving　warning　of　approach　through　the　previous　apartments。　The　Marquise　closed　the　door。
  〃It　is　my　duty；　my　child；　to　warn　you　in　one　of　the　most　serious　crises　in　the　lives　of　us　women；　you　have　perhaps　reached　it　unconsciously；　and　I　am　come　to　speak　to　you　as　a　friend　rather　than　as　a　mother。　When　you　married；　you　acquired　freedom　of　action；　you　are　only　accountable　to　your　husband　now；　but　I　asserted　my　authority　so　little　（perhaps　I　was　wrong）；　that　I　think　I　have　a　right　to　expect　you　to　listen　to　me；　for　once　at　least；　in　a　critical　position　when　you　must　need　counsel。　Bear　in　mind；　Moina　that　you　are　married　to　a　man　of　high　ability；　a　man　of　whom　you　may　well　be　proud；　a　man　who〃
  〃I　know　what　you　are　going　to　say；　mother！〃　Moina　broke　in　pettishly。　〃I　am　to　be　lectured　about　Alfred〃
  〃Moina；〃　the　Marquise　said　gravely；　as　she　struggled　with　her　tears；　〃you　would　not　guess　at　once　if　you　did　not　feel〃
  〃What？〃　asked　Moina；　almost　haughtily。　〃Why；　really；　mother〃
  Mme。　d'Aiglemont　summoned　up　all　her　strength。　〃Moina；〃　she　said；　〃you　must　attend　carefully　to　this　that　I　ought　to　tell　you〃
  〃I　am　attending；〃　returned　the　Countess；　folding　her　arms；　and　affecting　insolent　submission。　〃Permit　me；　mother；　to　ring　for　Pauline；〃　she　added　with　incredible　self…possession；　〃I　will　send　her　away　first。〃
  She　rang　the　bell。
  〃My　dear　child；　Pauline　cannot　possibly　hear〃
  〃Mamma；〃　interrupted　the　Countess；　with　a　gravity　which　must　have　struck　her　mother　as　something　unusual；　〃I　must〃
  She　stopped　short；　for　the　woman　was　in　the　room。
  〃Pauline；　go　/yourself/　to　Baudran's；　and　ask　why　my　hat　has　not　yet　been　sent。〃
  Then　the　Countess　reseated　herself　and　scrutinized　her　mother。　The　Marquise；　with　a　swelling　heart　and　dry　eyes；　in　painful　agitation；　which　none　but　a　mother　can　fully　understand；　began　to　open　Moina's　eyes　to　the　risk　that　she　was　running。　But　either　the　Countess　felt　hurt　and　indignant　at　her　mother's　suspicions　of　a　son　of　the　Marquis　de　Vandenesse；　or　she　was　seized　with　a　sudden　fit　of　inexplicable　levity　caused　by　the　inexperience　of　youth。　She　took　advantage　of　a　pause。
  〃Mamma；　I　thought　you　were　only　jealous　of　/the　father/〃　she　said；　with　a　forced　laugh。
  Mme。　d'Aiglemont　shut　her　eyes　and　bent　her　head　at　the　words；　with　a　very　faint；　almost　inaudible　sigh。　She　looked　up　and　out　into　space；　as　if　she　felt　the　common　overmastering　impulse　to　appeal　to　God　at　the　great　crises　of　our　lives；　then　she　looked　at　her　daughter；　and　her　eyes　were　full　of　awful　majesty　and　the　expression　of　profound　sorrow。
  〃My　child；〃　she　said；　and　her　voice　was　hardly　recognizable；　〃you　have　been　less　merciful　to　your　mother　than　he　against　whom　she　sinned；　less　merciful　than　perhaps　God　Himself　will　be！〃
  Mme。　d'Aiglemont　rose；　at　the　door　she　turned；　but　she　saw　nothing　but　surprise　in　her　daughter's　face。　She　went　out。　Scarcely　had　she　reached　the　garden　when　her　strength　failed　her。　There　was　a　violent　pain　at　her　heart；　and　she　sank　down　on　a　bench。　As　her　eyes　wandered　over　the　path；　she　saw　fresh　marks　on　the　path；　a　man's　footprints　were　distinctly　recognizable。　It　was　too　late；　then；　beyond　a　doubt。　Now　she　began　to　understand　the　reason　for　that　order　given　to　Pauline；　and　with　these　torturing　thoughts　came　a　revelation　more　hateful　than　any　that　had　gone　before　it。　She　drew　her　own　inferencesthe　son　of　the　Marquis　de　Vandenesse　had　destroyed　all　feeling　of　respect　for　her　in　her　daughter's　mind。　The　physical　pain　grew　worse；　by　degrees　she　lost　consciousness；　and　sat　like　one　asleep　upon　the　garden…seat。
  The　Countess　de　Saint…Hereen；　left　to　herself；　thought　that　her　mother　had　given　her　a　somewhat　shrewd　home…thrust；　but　a　kiss　and　a　few　attentions　that　evening　would　make　all　right　again。
  A　shrill　cry　came　from　the　garden。　She　leaned　carelessly　out；　as　Pauline；　not　yet　departed　on　her　errand；　called　out　for　help；　holding　the　Marquise　in　her　arms。
  〃Do　not　frighten　my　daughter！〃　those　were　the　last　words　the　mother　uttered。
  Moina　saw　them　carry　in　a　pale　and　lifeless　form　that　struggled　for　breath；　and　arms　moving　restlessly　as　in　protest　or　effort　to　speak；　and　overcome　by　the　sight；　Moina　followed　in　silence；　and　helped　to　undress　her　mother　and　lay　her　on　her　bed。　The　burden　of　her　fault　was　greater　than　she　could　bear。　In　that　supreme　hour　she　learned　to　know　her　mothertoo　late；　she　could　make　no　reparation　now。　She　would　have　them　leave　her　alone　with　her　mother；　and　when　there　was　no　one　else　in　the　room；　when　she　felt　that　the　hand　which　had　always　been　so　tender　for　her　was　now　grown　cold　to　her　touch；　she　broke　out　into　weeping。　Her　tears　aroused　the　Marquise；　she　could　still　look　at　her　darling　Moina；　and　at　the　sound　of　sobbing；　that　seemed　as　if　it　must　rend　the　delicate；　disheveled　breast；　could　smile　back　at　her　daughter。　That　smile　taught　the　unnatural　child　that　forgiveness　is　always　to　be　found　in　the　great　deep　of　a　mother's　heart。
  Servants　on　horseback　had　been　dispatched　at　once　for　the　physician　and　surgeon　and　for　Mme。　d'Aiglemont's　grandchildren。　Mme。　d'Aiglemont　the　younger　and　her　little　sons　arrived　with　the　medical　men；　a　sufficiently　impressive；　silent；　and　anxious　little　group；　which　the　servants　of　the　house　came　to　join。　The　young　Marquise；　hearing　no　sound；　tapped　gently　at　the　door。　That　signal；　doubtless；　roused　Moina　from　her　grief；　for　she　flung　open　the　doors　and　stood　before　them。　No　words　could　have　spoken　more　plainly　than　that　disheveled　figure　looking　out　with　haggard　eyes　upon　the　assembled　family。　Before　that　living　picture　of　Remorse　the　rest　were　dumb。　It　was　easy　to　see　that　the　Marquise's　feet　were　stretched　out　stark　and　stiff　with　the　agony　of　death；　and　Moina；　leaning　against　the　door…frame；　looking　into　their　faces；　spoke　in　a　hollow　voice：
  〃I　have　lost　my　mother！〃
  PARIS；　1828…1844。
  End