knows that Fleur-de-Marie was my daughter, she will comprehend the grief
that seeks to be alone--yes, alone, so that it may be expiatory; and it is
terrible, that expiation which fate imposes on me--terrible! for it
commences, for me, at the time when the decline of life also commences."

Some one knocked lightly and discreetly at the door; Rudolph started in
impatience; Murphy rose and went to see who was there. Through the
half-open door an aid-de-camp of the prince said a few words to the knight,
in a low tone. He answered by a sign, and, turning toward Rudolph, said,
"Will your highness permit me to be absent for a moment? Some one wishes to
speak to me on business of importance."

"Go," answered the prince.

Hardly had Murphy departed, than Rudolph, uttering a heavy sigh concealed
his face in his hands.

"Oh!" cried he, "that which I feel alarms me. My heart overflows with
hatred; the presence of my best friend weighs me down; the memory of a pure
and noble love importunes and troubles me, and then--it is cowardly and
unworthy. But last night I learned, with savage joy, the death of Sarah--of
this unnatural mother, who has caused the death of my child. I amused
myself in beholding the ravings and torments of the horrid monster who
killed my daughter--oh, madness!--I arrived too late. Yet, yesterday I did
not suffer so; and yesterday, as to-day, I thought my child dead--oh! yes;
but I did not say to myself these words which henceforth will imbitter my
life: 'I have seen my daughter; I have spoken to her; I have admired all
that was adorable in her. Oh! how much time I might have passed at that
farm! When I think that I only went there three times; yes, no more; and I
could have gone there every day--to see my child every day! What do I say