'Even if there is a paper somewhere, do you think the Marchesa will not be the first to find it and tear it to a thousand bits?
No, I will not call her "Princess Chiaromonte"! I, who knew your mother, my dear! Trust me, if there is a will in the sealed rooms, the Marchesa will discover it before any one!' Angela thought that this might be true, for she had a most vivid recollection of her aunt's look and voice during the late interview.
The more she thought of the immediate future, the clearer it became to her that she must accept her old governess's offer of shelter for the present.

She could not bring herself to beg a lodging and the bare necessaries of life from any of those people whom she had called her friends.

There were at least half-a-dozen girls with whom she had been intimate at the Sacred Heart, and during the past winter, and some of them were connections of her father's and would be profoundly shocked to learn what her position now was.

No doubt their parents would take her in for a few days, and would very possibly do more than that, and formally protest to her aunt and uncle against the treatment she had received.

But could she stay with any of them longer than a week on such a footing?
Would she be anything better than a waif, not knowing where she should sleep or get a meal a few days hence?
No; her only choice lay between accepting Madame Bernard's offer, and presenting herself as a candidate for charity at one of the two convents her father had protected.