sweetly, for Clemence was happy--oh! very happy--in thinking of the joyful
surprise she would cause the prince. What would have been her delight, if
she had known that it was a daughter whom he believed dead--that she was
about to restore to Rudolph. "Oh! this is so joyful a day for me, that I
wish it to be so for others; it seems to me that there must be many
unfortunate persons here to succor; this would be an excellent way to
express my gratitude, my joy, for the news you have given me." Then,
addressing one of the sisters, who had just given a drink to Miss de
Fermont, she said, "Well, sister, is she yet sensible?"

[Illustration: THE CONVALESCENT]

"Not yet, madame--she is so weak. Poor thing! her pulse can hardly be
felt."

"I will wait until she is able to be removed in my carriage. But tell me,
sister, among all these unhappy sick, do you not know some who particularly
merit my interest and pity, and to whom I can be useful before I leave the
hospital?"

"Oh! madame, it is heaven sends you," said the sister; "there is," added
she, pointing to the bed of Pique-Vinaigre's sister, "a poor woman, very
sick, and very much to be pitied; she mourns continually about two small
children, who have no one to look to for support but herself. She told the
doctor just now that she would leave here, cured or not cured, in a week,
as her neighbor had promised to take care of her children for that time
only."

"Conduct me to her bed, I pray you, sister," said Lady d'Harville, rising,
and following the nun.