de Beaumesnil hastily checked herself, then added, with no little embarrassment:
"I am really ashamed of my inquisitiveness – nothing but the deep interest I take in you could excuse it, mademoiselle."
"The questions madame la comtesse deigns to address to me are evidently so kindly meant that I am only too glad to answer them in all sincerity."
"Well, then, with whom did you make your home after leaving school?"
"With whom did I make my home, madame?"
"Yes; I mean with what persons?"
"I had no one to go to, madame."
"No one?" exclaimed Madame de Beaumesnil, with truly heroic courage. "You had no relatives? No family?"
"I have no relatives, madame la comtesse," replied Herminie, with a courage equal to that of her mother. "I have no relatives."
"I am sure now that she does not know that I am her daughter," Herminie said to herself. "If she did, she certainly would not have had the courage to ask me such a question."
"Then with whom have you lived since that time?" asked the countess.
"I have lived alone."
"Entirely alone?"
"Yes, madame."
"Forgive me this one more question, for at your age – such a position is so unusual – and so very interesting – have you always had scholars enough to support you?"
"Oh, yes, madame la comtesse," replied poor Herminie, bravely.
"And you live entirely alone, though you are so young?"
"What else could I do, madame? One can not choose one's lot; one can only accept it, and by the aid of industry and courage try to make one's existence, if not brilliant, at least happy."
"Happy!" exclaimed Madame de Beaumesnil, in accents of irrepressible delight; "you are really happy?"
As she uttered these words her countenance, as well as her voice, betrayed such intense joy and relief that Herminie's doubts returned, and she said to herself:
"Perhaps she does know that I am her daughter. If she does not, why should she be so pleased to learn that I am happy. It matters little, however. If she does know that I am her daughter, I must reassure her so as to save her from vain regrets, and perhaps remorse. If I am a stranger to her, it is no less necessary for me to reassure her, else she may think I wish to excite her commiseration, and my pride revolts at the idea of that."
Meanwhile, Madame de Beaumesnil, longing to hear Herminie repeat an assurance so precious to a mother's heart, exclaimed:
"And you say you are happy – really and truly happy?"
"Yes, madame," answered Herminie, almost gaily, "very happy."
Seeing her daughter's charming face thus radiant with innocent joy and youthful beauty, the countess was obliged to make a violent effort to keep from betraying herself, and it was with a fair imitation of Herminie's gaiety that she replied:
"Don't laugh at my question, mademoiselle, but to us, who are unfortunately accustomed to all the luxuries and superfluities of wealth, there are many things that seem incomprehensible. When you left school, however modest your wants may have been, how did you manage to supply them?"
"Oh, I was rich, then, madame la comtesse," said Herminie, smiling.
"How was that?"
"Two years after I was placed at a Parisian school, the remittances which had, up to that time, been received for my schooling ceased. I was then twelve years old, and the principal of the school was very fond of me. 'My child,' she said to me one day, 'your friends have ceased to pay for you, but that makes no difference; you shall stay on just the same.'"
"Noble woman!"
"She was the best woman that ever lived, madame la comtesse, but, unfortunately, she is dead now," said Herminie, sadly.
Then, unwilling to leave the countess under a painful impression, she added, smilingly:
"But the kind-hearted woman had not taken my greatest fault into consideration in making these plans. For, as you ask me to be perfectly frank with you, madame, I am forced to admit that I have one great and deplorable fault."
"And what is it, may I ask?"
"Alas! madame, it is pride."
"Pride?"
"Yes; so when our kind-hearted principal offered to keep me out of charity, my pride revolted, and I told her I would accept her offer only upon condition that I was allowed to pay by my work for what she offered me gratuitously."
"You said that at the age of twelve. What a little braggart she must have thought you. And how did you propose to pay her, pray?"
"By superintending the practising of the younger music pupils, for I was very far advanced for my age, having always had a passion for music."
"And did she accept your proposal?"
"Gladly, madame la comtesse. My determination to be independent seemed to touch her deeply."
"I can readily understand that."
"Thanks to her, I soon had a large number of pupils, several of them much older than myself, – my pride is continually cropping out, you see, madame. In this way, what was at first child's play became a vocation, and, later on, a valuable resource. At the age of fourteen, I was the second piano teacher, with a salary of twelve hundred francs, so you can form some estimate of the wealth I must have amassed at the age of sixteen and a half."
"Poor child! So young, and yet so full of indomitable energy and noble pride!" exclaimed the countess, unable to restrain her tears.
"Then why did you leave the school?" she continued, after she had conquered her emotion.
"Our noble-hearted principal died, and another lady – who unfortunately did not resemble my benefactress in the least – took her place. The newcomer, however, proposed that I should remain in the institution upon the same terms. I accepted her offer, but, at the end of two months, my great fault – and my hot head – caused me to sever my connection with the school."
"And why?"
"My new employer was as hard and tyrannical as the other had been kind and affectionate, and one day – "
Herminie's beautiful face turned a vivid scarlet at the recollection, and she hesitated a moment.
"One day," she continued, at last, "this lady made a remark to me that cut me to the quick."
"What did the wicked creature say to you?" demanded Madame de Beaumesnil, for Herminie had paused again, unwilling to wound the countess by repeating the insulting and heartless words:
"You are very proud for a bastard that was reared by charity in this very house."
"What did that wicked woman say to you?" insisted Madame de Beaumesnil.
"I beg that you will not insist upon my repeating her heartless words," replied Herminie. "Though I have not forgotten, I have at least forgiven them. But the very next day I left the house with my little savings. With these I fitted up my modest ménage, for since that time I have lived alone, in a home of my own."
Herminie uttered the words, "in a home of my own," with such a proud and satisfied air, that Madame de Beaumesnil, with tears in her eyes, despite the smile upon her lips, pressed the young girl's hand affectionately, and said:
"I am sure this home of yours must be charming."
"Oh, yes, madame, there is nothing too elegant for me."
"Come, tell me all about it. How many rooms are there in your apartment?"
"Only one, besides a tiny hall; but it is on the ground floor, and looks out upon a garden. The room is small, so I could afford a pretty carpet and curtains. I have only one armchair, but that is velvet. I have but little furniture, it is true, but that little is in very good taste, I think. There is one thing more that I aspire to, however, and that ambition will soon be realised."
"And