I told her all about you: she said she was glad you had not
gone back to the convent, and that you could go to her
whenever you wished, for she would take care of you. So as
your work is done," Jeanne-Marie added with a sigh, "there is
nothing to keep you, and you may go as soon as you like."
"May I" cried Madelon; "to-morrow, next day? Ah! Jeanne-Marie,
how happy you have made me; you will know why, you will
understand some day--tell me when I shall go."
"We will say the day after to-morrow. I will get your things
ready," answered Jeanne-Marie. She stood gazing at the child
for a moment, as if she would have said something more, then
turned away quickly and entered the house.
Madelon never thought of connecting Jeanne-Marie's sad looks
and ways with her own departure; and indeed, hardly noticed
them, in her joy at having accomplished her task, and earned
the longed-for thirty francs. She did not understand nor
suspect the woman's passionate longing for her affection; no
child can comprehend that strange, pathetic yearning that
older people have for a child's love--a love so pure, and
fresh, and ingenuous, that when it is freely and frankly
given, it is surely the most flattering and precious in the
world.
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