"I forgot," she cried, "I have no
one--ah? what shall I do, what shall I do?"
"Do!" said the Countess, interposing with much prompt energy,
"it is not difficult to know what you must do; you must go
back to the convent, of course. I never heard of anything so
improper as your running away."
"No, no, no," cried Madelon; "I cannot go back there--never;
they would kill me." She flung herself down on the sofa again,
while old Madame Bertrand tried to comfort her. No one should
make her go back; she was her _chere petite_, she would take
care of her--and was she not very hungry? would she like some
soup, or some cakes, or some bread and _confiture?_
Meanwhile the Countess was saying to Mademoiselle Henriette,
"This is a most extraordinary affair. If we do not take care,
your excellent aunt will be imposed upon; but I am going back
to Liege in an hour, and can perfectly well take the little
girl with me, and leave her at the convent."
"Indeed, Madame, we should be much indebted to you," said
mademoiselle Henriette, briskly; "it is evident that she has
no friends, and has come to my aunt simply because she was in
some way acquainted with her formerly.
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