But, no matter; I"--she laid great stress upon
this word--"I will be more generous than your old acquaintances. I have
a great deal of embroidery to be done. I shall send it to you by my
maid, and you two may agree upon the price. We must go. Good-by, my
dear. Come, Aunt Medea."
She departed, leaving Marie-Anne petrified with surprise, sorrow, and
indignation.
Although less experienced than Mlle. Blanche, she comprehended that this
strange visit concealed some mystery--but what?
For more than a minute she stood motionless, gazing after her departing
guests; then she started suddenly as a hand was laid gently upon her
shoulder.
She trembled, and, turning quickly, found herself face to face with her
father.
Lacheneur's face was whiter than his linen, and a sinister light
glittered in his eye.
"I was there," said he, pointing to the door, "and--I heard all."
"Father!"
"What! would you try to defend her after she came here to crush you with
her insolent good fortune--after she overwhelmed you with her ironical
pity and with her scorn? I tell you they are all like this--these girls,
whose heads have been turned by flattery, and who believe that in
their veins flows a different blood from ours.
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