Madelon did not speak nor cry;
she only sat gazing at the little Sister with a look of
perplexed terror dilating her brown eyes, that never changed
as Soeur Angelique went on with her pious, gentle maxims and
consolations, which fell blankly enough we may be sure on our
small Madelon's bewildered mind; and presently, hearing
herself called, and seeing indeed that she was making no
impression with her kind little speeches, the Sister rose to
go, saying as she did so, "You will go to bed now, _chere
petite_, will you not?" and then thinking that a familiar face
and voice might perhaps have a kindlier influence than her own
just then, she added, "and I will ask Madame Lavaux to come to
you."
"No, no," cried Madelon, suddenly rousing, and starting up at
these last words. She had comprehended what the Sister had
told her well enough so far as words went, but she was too
stunned and confused to take in their full meaning; and in
truth her presence there at all had only been another
unfamiliar element in this bewildering whirl of events,
imparting an additional sense of unreality.
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