subjects of conversation, was with her. A sudden brightness hovered over
Berta's head for an instant, circled swiftly around it, and then vanished
from sight.

"Did you see it?" cried Berta.

"Yes," answered the nurse, "it was a white butterfly that wanted to settle
on your head."

"Well?" asked Berta.

"White butterflies," said the nurse, "are a sign of good luck; they always
bring good news."

"Yes," answered Berta, pressing her nurse's hand convulsively. "That is my
white butterfly, and this time it will not deceive me. Adrian is coming--
yes, he is coming for me; that is what it has come to tell me--I was
waiting for it."

The nurse gazed at her for a moment with dilated eyes; the setting sun
illumined Berta's countenance with a strange light, and the poor woman,
unable to support the look which burned in the eyes of the sick girl, bent
her head and clasped her hands, saying to herself:

"My God! She has lost her mind!"

The idea that Berta had lost her reason threw the housekeeper into a state
of distraction. She would hide herself in the remotest corners of the
house to cry by herself. She could not bear alone the burden of so
terrible a secret, but to whom could she confide it? How stab the father's