to do, and commenced the repetition of that short thing by Chénier, ‘La Jeune Captive.’ If you had heard the manner in which she went through this, and in which she uttered a few incoherent comments when she had done, you would have known what I meant by the phrase ‘unsettled hurry.’ One would have thought Chénier was more moving than all Racine and all Corneille. You, brother, who have so much sagacity, will discern that this disproportionate preference argues an ill-regulated mind; but she is fortunate in a preceptress. I will give her a system, a method of thought, a set of opinions; I will give her the perfect control and guidance of her feelings.”
“Be sure you do, Hortense: here she comes. That was her shadow passed the window, I believe.”
“Ah! truly. She is too early—half an hour before her time.—My child, what brings you here before I have breakfasted?”
This question was addressed to an individual who now entered the room, a young girl, wrapped in a winter mantle, the folds of which were gathered with some grace round an apparently slender figure.
“I came in haste to see how you were, Hortense, and how Robert was, too. I was sure you would be both grieved by what happened last night. I did not hear till this morning: my uncle told me at breakfast.”
“Ah! it is unspeakable. You sympathize with us? Your uncle sympathizes with us?”
