I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. “It is a secret mission,” she declared. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. But she was only able to save a corner of the letter. He might miss at this distance. And he, her lawful husband, dared not go to her and console her! Accursed—all of them— Enschede, Ruth, and himself. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. Paris is not the place for two young girls. “Contrarily, you are sitting on a sepulcher of death! It 30 is only a matter of time before the Pestilence strikes here again, Gianfrancesco.
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