ness, her countenance the expression of implacable pride that deprived it of all its charm. And this charm now showed itself in the eyes, which had lost their severity, in the pathetic wrinkles of the forehead, in all that sad and withered face.
"Gilberte, you wished to be my daughter: do you wish it still?"
She had no time to reply. Guillaume had rushed up to both of them and was kissing them by turns. And he said, fervently:
"Let us love her, Gilberte. We owe her the greatest gratitude for what she is doing. It means the sacrifice of her most cherished ideas and she has consented to that sacrifice of her own accord."
"Come, Guillaume, don't make me out better than I am!" protested Mme. de la Vaudraye, in a playful tone. "Are you quite sure that I have not merely yielded to sordid motives? If Gilberte had been a poor girl, without any money ..."
