Indeed, had Madame Bertrand known how
recently the child had recovered from a long illness, nothing,
I think, would have induced her to let her go; but she only
supposed she was over-tired with her strange night journey;
and, in fact, the wine and the rest together had so far
revived Madelon that she appeared quite capable of walking
down to the station with the Countess. Madame Bertrand gave
her great hug as she wished her good-bye, and was perhaps a
little aggrieved at the passive way in which Madelon received
it.
"If ever you want help, come back to me--will you not, _mon
enfant?_--and I will help you, if I can."
"Yes," said Madelon; "but they will not let me run away again;
will they?"
"Let you run away, _ma petite?_"
"Yes--Aunt Therese, you know. She won't let me do it again."
"Your aunt? You told me she was dead;" cried Madame.
"Yes, so she is," said Madelon. "I was forgetting, I think.
Good-bye, Madame Bertrand. You will let me stay next time,
will you not? But I must go now?" And she followed the
Countess out of the house without another word.
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