La Louve, blushing, confused, daring neither to answer nor raise her eyes
toward Lady d'Harville, so much did the presence of a woman of her rank
abash her, could not conceal her astonishment at hearing Clemence pronounce
her name.

"But there is not a moment to lose," said the marchioness. "I am dying with
impatience to take you with me, Fleur-de-Marie; I have brought in my
carriage a shawl and a warm cloak; come, come, my child." Then, addressing
the count, she added, "Will your lordship be good enough to give my address
to this courageous woman, so that she can come to-morrow and say farewell
to Fleur-de-Marie? So, you will be obliged to come and see us," she said to
La Louve.

"Oh! lady, I will come, very sure," answered she, "since it is to say adieu
to La Goualeuse; I should be very sad not to be able to see her once more."

A few moments afterward Lady d'Harville and La Goualeuse were on the road
to Paris.

* * * * *

Rudolph, after having beheld the death of Jacques Ferrand, so terribly
punished for his crime, had returned home in a state of deep dejection.
After a long and sleepless night, he had sent for Sir Walter Murphy, to
confide to this old and faithful friend the heartrending discovery
concerning Fleur-de-Marie that he had made the previous evening. The worthy
Englishman was overwhelmed; better than any other person, he could
comprehend and partake of the profound grief of the prince. The latter,
pale, prostrated, his eyes red from weeping, had just made Murphy this
painful revelation.