d'Aigrigny for his mother had been the only pure feeling that had
invariably distinguished his life.

When the servant had discreetly withdrawn with Mrs. Grivois, the marquis
quickly approached the princess, held out his hand to her, and said with
a voice of emotion:

"Herminia, have you not concealed something in your letters. In her last
moments did not my mother curse me?"

"No, no, Frederick, compose yourself. She had anxiously desired your
presence. Her ideas soon became confused. But in her delirium it was
still for you that she called."

"Yes," said the marquis, bitterly; "her maternal instinct doubtless
assured her that my presence could have saved her life."

"I entreat you to banish these sad recollections," said the princess,
"this misfortune is irreparable."

"Tell me for the last time, truly, did not my absence cruelly affect my
mother? Had she no suspicion that a more imperious duty called me
elsewhere?"

"No, no, I assure you. Even when her reason was shaken, she believed that
you had not yet had time to come to her. All the sad details which I
wrote to you upon this painful subject are strictly true. Again, I beg of
you to compose yourself."

"Yes, my conscience ought to be easy; for I have fulfilled my duty in