Having consigned Fleur-de-Marie to the care of Madame d’Harville, Murphy hastily retreated behind one of the large window curtains, not feeling too sure of his own self-command.
At the sight of him who was, in the eyes of Fleur-de-Marie, not only her benefactor but the worshipped idol of her heart, the poor girl, whose delicate frame had been so severely tried by illness, became seized with a universal trembling.
“Compose yourself, my child!” said Madame d’Harville. “See, there is your kind M. Rodolph, who has been extremely uneasy on your account, and is most anxious to see you.”
“Oh, yes—uneasy, indeed!” stammered forth Rodolph, whose breast was wrung with anguish at the sight of his child’s pale, suffering looks, and, spite of his previous resolution, the prince found himself compell
