Jeanne-Marie came close to
her, and smoothed back her hair caressingly with her rough
work-a-day fingers.
"_Soyez tranquille, mon enfant_," she said, "you shall not be
taken back to the convent, and no one shall make you a nun."
"You promise?" said Madelon, catching hold of her arm, and
looking into her face with eager, suspicious eyes; "you
promise not to take me back?"
"Yes, I promise," said the woman; "fear nothing, _ma petite_."
"And you won't tell Aunt Therese that I ran away? For she
would be so angry, you know; she wanted to make me a nun like
herself; you won't tell her--you won't, you won't?"
"No, no," said Jeanne-Marie. "I will tell nothing, you are
quite safe here; now lie down and be quiet, and I will give
you something nice to drink."
But Madelon's eyes wandered; the terrified look came again,
and she clung tighter and tighter to Jeanne-Marie.
"Please ask Aunt Therese to go away!" she cried; "she is
standing there in the corner of the room, staring at me; she
will not move--there--there she is, don't you see? Oh, tell her
to go away--she stares at me so, and oh! there is a coffin at
her side, it is all over death's heads; Aunt Therese has a
death's head--oh! take me away, take me away!"
With a shriek of terror the child threw herself back on the
bed, covering her eyes with her hands, burying her face in the
pillow.
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