Do you know, papa, it made me cry," she added, in a
half whisper.
"_Vraiment!_" said M. Linders, with some contempt in his voice,
and a slight, involuntary shrug of the shoulders.
The contempt was for a class of emotion with which he had no
sympathy, and for that which he imagined had called it forth;
not for his little Madelon, nor for her expression of it. But
the child shrank back, blushing scarlet. He saw his mistake,
perhaps, for he drew her towards him again, and with a tender
caress and word tried to turn her thoughts in another
direction; but it was too late; the impression had been made,
and could never again be effaced. All unconsciously, with that
one inadvertent word, M. Linders had raised the first slight
barrier between himself and his child, had given the first
shock to that confidence which he had fondly hoped was ever to
exist undisturbed between them. In the most sacred hour her
short life had yet known, Madeleine had appealed to him for
help and sympathy, and she had been repulsed without finding
either. She did not indeed view it in that light, nor believe
in and love him the less; she only thought she must have been
foolish; but she took well to heart the lesson that she should
henceforth keep such folly to herself--as far as he was
concerned, at any rate.
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