Yet she was deeply troubled, and great tears rolled down her cheeks.
"My poor, dear child," she whispered, as she had done the previous evening in church.
Astonished to see her in such a way, she who was always so equable, who never wept, Angelique exclaimed: "But what is the matter, mother?
It is, indeed, true that I have not done right, inasmuch as I have not made you my confidante.

But you would pardon me if you knew how much I have suffered from it, and how keen my remorse has been.

Since at first I did not speak, later on I did not dare to break the silence.

Will you forgive me ?" She had seated herself near her mother, and had placed her arm caressingly around her waist.

The old bench seemed almost hidden in this moss-covered corner of the Cathedral.