"You are ignorant--you made a mistake. And I--well, you perceive,
monsieur, that I am not ashamed to confess--I loved her; she was the
radiant light, the star of my life!"
"La lumiere rayonnante, l'etoile de ma vie!"--the phrases sounded
ridiculous enough when uttered by this histrionic person; but even his
self-conscious gesticulation did not offend Brand. This man, at all
events, had loved the mother of Natalie.
"Then it was some very powerful motive that kept mother and daughter
apart?" said he.
"Yes; I cannot explain it all to you, if I quite know it all. But every
year the mother comes with a birthday present of flowers for the child,
and watches to see her once or twice; and then away back she goes to the
retreat of her father. Ah, the devotion of that beautiful saint! If
there is a heaven at all, Natalie Berezolyi will be among the angels."
"Then you have come to tell Natalie that her mother is alive. I envy
you. How grateful the girl will be to you!"
"I? What, I? No, truly, I dare not. And that is why I wish to speak to
you: I thought perhaps you would guess, or find out: then I say, do not
utter a word! Why do I give you this secret? Why have I sought to speak
with you, monsieur? Well, if you will not speak, I will.
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