"There is a young woman here who wishes to speak with madame."
"Who is she?"
"She did not give her name. She came to return something belonging to the late Comtesse de Beaumesnil."
"Admit her," said the baroness.
Then, turning to her husband and sister-in-law, she said:
"I wonder who it can be?"
"I haven't the slightest idea, but we shall soon know."
"Some claim on the estate, probably," remarked the baroness. "It should have been sent to the notary."
Almost at the same instant the servant opened the door, and announced:
"Mademoiselle Herminie."
Though beautiful under any and all circumstances, the lovely face of the "duchess," wan from the profound grief caused by the death of her mother, wore an expression of intense sadness. Her lovely golden hair, which she usually wore in long curls, was wound smoothly around her head, for, in her bitter sorrow, the poor child for the last two months had entirely forgotten the innocent vanities of youth. Another trivial but highly significant detail,--Herminie's white and beautifully shaped hands were bare; the shabby little gloves so often and carefully mended were no longer wearable, and her increasing poverty would not permit her to purchase others.
Yes, her poverty, for, wounded to the heart by her mother's death, and dangerously ill for six weeks, the young girl had been unable to give the music lessons which were her only means of support, and her little store of savings had been swallowed up in the expenses of her illness, so, while waiting for the pay for the lessons resumed only a few days before, Herminie had been obliged to pawn some silver purchased in an hour of affluence, and on the paltry sum thus obtained she was now living with a parsimony which want alone can teach.
On seeing this pale but beautiful girl, whose clothing indicated extreme poverty, in spite of its scrupulous neatness, the baron and his wife exchanged glances of surprise.
"I am Madame de la Rochaigue, mademoiselle," said the baroness. "What can I do for you?"
"I came, madame, to rectify a mistake," replied Herminie, blushing deeply, "and return this five hundred franc note which was sent to me by--by the late Madame de Beaumesnil's notary."
In spite of her courage, Herminie felt the tears rush to her eyes on uttering her mother's name, but making a violent effort to conquer her emotion, she held out the bank-note enclosed in an envelope, bearing this address:
_For Mlle. Herminie,_ _Singing Teacher._
[Illustration: "She Held Out the Bank-note."]
"Ah, yes, it was you, mademoiselle, who used to play and sing for Madame de Beaumesnil."
"Yes, madame."
"I recollect now that the family council decided that five hundred francs should be sent to you for your services. It was considered that this amount--"
"Would be a suitable, sufficient, and satisfactory remuneration," added the baron, sententiously.
"And if it is not, the complaint should be made to the notary, not to us," added the baroness.
"I have come, madame," said Herminie, gently but proudly, "to return the money. I have been paid."
No one present realised or could realise the bitter sorrow hidden in these words:
"I have been paid."
But Herminie's dignity and disinterestedness, a disinterestedness which the shabby garments of the young girl rendered the more remarkable, made a deep impression on Madame de la Rochaigue, and she said:
"Really, mademoiselle, I can not praise too highly this delicacy and keen sense of honour on your part. The family did not know that you had been paid, but," added the baroness, hesitatingly, for Herminie's air of quiet dignity impressed her not a little,--"but I--I feel that I may, in the name of the family, beg you to keep this five hundred francs--as--as a gift."
And the baroness held out the bank-note to the young girl, casting another quick glance at her shabby garments as she did so.
Again a blush of wounded pride mounted to Herminie's brow, but it is impossible to describe the perfect courtesy and proud simplicity with which the girl replied:
"Will you, madame, kindly reserve this generous gift for the many persons who must appeal to you for charity."
Then, without another word, Herminie bowed to Madame de la Rochaigue, and turned towards the door.
"Excuse me, mademoiselle," cried the baroness, "one word more, just one."
The young girl, unable to entirely conceal the tears of humiliation repressed with such difficulty until now, turned, and said to Madame de la Rochaigue, who seemed to have been suddenly struck with a new idea:
"What do you wish, madame?"
"I must ask you first to pardon an insistence which seems to have wounded your delicacy, and made you think, perhaps, that I wished to humiliate you, but I assure you--"
"I never suppose that any one desires to humiliate me, madame," replied Herminie, gently and firmly, but without allowing Madame de la Rochaigue to finish her sentence.
"And you are right, mademoiselle," responded the baroness, "for it is an entirely different sentiment that you inspire. Now, I have a service, I might even say a favour, to ask of you."
"Of me?"
"Do you still give piano lessons, mademoiselle?"
"Yes, madame."
"M. de la Rochaigue," said the baroness, pointing to her husband, who was smiling according to his custom, "is the guardian of Mlle. de Beaumesnil, who is expected to arrive here this evening."
"Mlle. de Beaumesnil!" exclaimed Herminie, with a violent start; "she is coming here--to-day?"
"As madame has just had the honour to say to you, we expect Mlle. de Beaumesnil, my much loved cousin and ward, will arrive this evening,"
said the baron. "These apartments are intended for her," he added, casting a complacent glance around the magnificent room, "apartments worthy in every respect of the richest heiress in France, for whom nothing is too good--"
But the baroness, unceremoniously interrupting her husband, said to Herminie:
"Mlle. de Beaumesnil is only sixteen, and her education is not yet entirely completed. She will need instruction in several branches, and if you can make it convenient to give Mlle. de Beaumesnil lessons in music we should be delighted to entrust her to you."
Though the possibility of such an offer had gradually dawned upon Herminie's mind as the baroness proceeded, the thought that a most lucky chance was about to bring her in contact with her sister so overcame her that she would doubtless have betrayed herself if the baron, eager to improve this fresh opportunity to pose as an orator, had not slipped his left hand in the breast of his tightly buttoned coat, and, with his right hand oscillating like a pendulum, said:
"Mademoiselle, though we feel it a sacred duty to select our dear ward's instructors with the most scrupulous care, it is also an infinite satisfaction, pleasure, and happiness to us to occasionally meet persons, who, like yourself, are endowed with all the necessary attributes for the noble vocation to which they have dedicated themselves in the sacred interest of education."
This speech, or rather this tirade, which the baron uttered in a single breath, fortunately afforded Herminie time to recover her composure, and it was with comparative calmness that she turned to Madame de la Rochaigue, and said: