Will you come upstairs a moment ?" And, perceiving that the young woman, whose hand she had taken, was trembling: "What ails you?
I should think you were ill! You do not feel well?
My God, what ails her! She is ill, Luc," she added, turning to her son; "run to my room and bring me the large bottle of English salts; Rose knows which one.

Go, go quickly." "It is nothing," replied Lydia, who had indeed closed her eyes as if on the point of swooning.

"See, I am better already.

I think I will return home; it will be wiser." "I shall not leave you," said Maud, seating herself, too, in the carriage; and, as they handed her the bottle of salts, she made Madame Maitland inhale it, talking to her the while as to a sick child: "Poor little thing!" "How her cheeks burn! And you pay visits in this state.

It is very venturesome! Rue Leopardi," she called to the coachman, "quickly." The carriage rolled away, and Madame Gorka continued to press the tiny hands of Lydia, to whom she gave the tender name, so ironical under the circumstances, of "Poor little one!" Maud was one of those women like whom England produces many, for the honor of that healthy and robust British civilization, who are at once all energy and all goodness.