number of young people with extreme ease and liveliness of manner,
playing her part like a consummate actress. Presently she suggested a
game of loto, and offered to find the box, on the ground that she
alone knew where it was, and then she disappeared.

"I am suffocating, my poor Brigitte," she cried, wiping the tears that
gushed from her eyes, now brilliant with fever, anxiety, and
impatience. "He does not come," she moaned, looking round the room
prepared for her son. "Here alone I can breathe, I can live! A few
minutes more and he _must_ be here; for I know he is living. I am
certain of it, my heart says so. Don't you hear something, Brigitte? I
would give the rest of my life to know at this moment whether he were
still in prison, or out in the free country. Oh! I wish I could stop
thinking--"

She again examined the room to see if all were in order. A good fire
burned on the hearth, the shutters were carefully closed, the
furniture shone with rubbing; even the manner in which the bed was
made showed that the countess had assisted Brigitte in every detail;
her hopes were uttered in the delicate care given to that room where
she expected to fold her son in her arms. A mother alone could have
thought of all his wants; a choice repast, rare wine, fresh linen,
slippers, in short, everything the tired man would need,--all were
there that nothing might be lacking; the comforts of his home should
reveal to him without words the tenderness of his mother!

"Brigitte!" said the countess, in a heart-rending tone, placing a
chair before the table, as if to give a semblance of reality to her
hopes, and so increase the strength of her illusions.