"Yes, my child, the best way to prove that you love us," added Clemence,
"is to forget the past."

"Believe me, M. Rudolph--believe me, my lady, that if I do recall it
sometimes, it will only be to say to myself, that, without you, I should
still be very unhappy."

"Yes; but we will take care that you have no more such gloomy thoughts. Our
tenderness will not leave you the time, my dear Marie," answered Rudolph,
"for you know that I gave you this name at the farm."

"Yes, M. Rudolph. And is Madame George, who allowed me to call her mother,
well?"

"Very well, my child. But I have important news to tell you."

"Me, M. Ruldoph?"

"Since I have seen you, great discoveries have been made concerning your
birth."

"My birth!"

"It is known who were your parents--who was your father."

Rudolph was so much choked by his tears on his pronouncing these words,
that Fleur-de-Marie, very much affected, turned quickly toward him: he had
turned away his head. An incident, half burlesque, diverted the attention
of La Goualeuse, and prevented her from remarking more closely the emotion
of her father: the worthy squire, who still remained behind the curtain,