"Not at all naughty," said Madame, at last, rallying, and
still busy about the sofa, where Madelon had passively and
wearily laid back her aching little head. "It was the very
best thing she could do. Nun, indeed! I have no great opinion
of convents, nor nuns either, myself; an idle pack--the best of
them only say more prayers than their neighbours, and there is
nothing very clever in that. I could do it myself, if I had
the time."
"But it is very singular," said the Countess, getting up.
"That is certainly the same little girl I travelled with from
Chaudfontaine this morning. I thought there was something odd
about her; she would not answer any of my questions. But there
is no convent at Chaudfontaine. Are you sure she is telling
you the truth?"
"Of course she is, Madame--I have known her since--since she was
that high," replied Madame Bertrand, with some indignation; a
reply so conclusive to herself, that its want of apparent
logic may be pardoned. "Tell me, _mon enfant_, where is your
convent that you speak of."
"At Liege," said Madelon, rousing and trying to sit up.
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