I saw Miss Minna go in as I passed the door." Madame Fontaine hurried up the next flight of stairs, and ran along the corridor as lightly as a young girl.

The door of her room was ajar; she saw her daughter through the opening sitting on the sofa, with some work lying idle on her lap.

Minna started up when her mother appeared.
"Am I in the way, mamma?
I am so stupid, I can't get on with this embroidery----" Madame Fontaine tossed the embroidery to the other end of the room, threw her arms round Minna, and lifted her joyously from the floor as if she had been a little child.
"The day is fixed, my angel!" she cried; "You are to be married on the thirtieth!" She shifted one hand to her daughter's head, and clasped it with a fierce fondness to her bosom.

"Oh, my darling, you had lovely hair even when you were a baby! We won't have it dressed at your wedding.

It shall flow down naturally in all its beauty--and no hand shall brush it but mine." She pressed her lips on Minna's head, and devoured it with kisses; then, driven by some irresistible impulse, pushed the girl away from her, and threw herself on the sofa with a cry of pain.
"Why did you start up, as if you were afraid of me, when I came in ?" she said wildly.