The slightest emotion enervated her. She had to give up her piano
lessons. Her mother insisted upon regular letters from the
convent. One morning, when the postman failed to come, she grew
impatient and began to pace to and fro, from her chair to the
window. It was really extraordinary! No news since four days!

In order to console her mistress by her own example, Félicité
said:

"Why, Madame, I haven't had any news since six months!"--

"From whom?"--

The servant replied gently:

"Why--from my nephew."

"Oh, yes, your nephew!" And shrugging her shoulders, Madame Aubain
continued to pace the floor as if to say: "I did not think of
it.--Besides, I do not care, a cabin-boy, a pauper!--but my
daughter--what a difference! just think of it!--"

Félicité, although she had been reared roughly, was very
indignant. Then she forgot about it.

It appeared quite natural to her that one should lose one's head
about Virginia.

The two children were of equal importance; they were united in her
heart and their fate was to be the same.