“Do you see, my little girl,” resumed the recluse, interspersing her words with kisses, “I shall love you dearly?
We will go away from here.
We are going to be very happy.
I have inherited something in Reims, in our country.
You know Reims?
Ah! no, you do not know it; you were too small!
If you only knew how pretty you were at the age of four months!
Tiny feet that people came even from Epernay, which is seven leagues away, to see!
We shall have a field, a house.
I will put you to sleep in my bed.
My God! my God! who would believe this?
I have my daughter!”
“Oh, my mother!” said the young girl, at length finding strength to speak in her emotion, “the gypsy woman told me so.
There was a good gypsy of our band who died last year, and who always cared for me like a nurse.
It was she who placed this little bag about my neck.
She always said to me:
‘Little one, guard this jewel well!
‘Tis a treasure.
It will cause thee to find thy mother once again.
Thou wearest thy mother about thy neck.’—The gypsy predicted it!”
The sacked nun again pressed her daughter in her arms.
“Come, let me kiss you!
You say that prettily.
When we are in the country, we will place these little shoes on an infant Jesus in the church.
We certainly owe that to the good, holy Virgin.
What a pretty voice you have!
When you spoke to me just now, it was music!
Ah! my Lord God!
I have found my child again!
But is this story credible?
Nothing will kill one—or I should have died of joy.”
And then she began to clap her hands again and to laugh and to cry out:
“We are going to be so happy!”
At that moment, the cell resounded with the clang of arms and a galloping of horses which seemed to be coming from the Pont Notre-Dame, amid advancing farther and farther along the quay.
The gypsy threw herself with anguish into the arms of the sacked nun.
“Save me! save me! mother! they are coming!”
“Oh, heaven! what are you saying?
I had forgotten!
They are in pursuit of you!
What have you done?”
“I know not,” replied the unhappy child; “but I am condemned to die.”
“To die!” said Gudule, staggering as though struck by lightning; “to die!” she repeated slowly, gazing at her daughter with staring eyes.
“Yes, mother,” replied the frightened young girl, “they want to kill me.
They are coming to seize me.
That gallows is for me!
Save me! save me!
They are coming!
Save me!”
The recluse remained for several moments motionless and petrified, then she moved her head in sign of doubt, and suddenly giving vent to a burst of laughter, but with that terrible laugh which had come back to her,—
“Ho! ho! no! ‘tis a dream of which you are telling me.