But her heart was
still courageous, and she spoke at once.
"Oh! Monseigneur, I have come----"
As for the Bishop, he had risen immediately. He had a vague recollection
of her; the young girl, seen first at her window on the day of the
procession, and re-found a little later standing on a chair in the
church; this little embroiderer, with whom his son was so desperately
in love. He uttered no word, he made no gesture. He waited, stern and
stiff.
"Oh! Monseigneur, I have come on purpose that you may see me. You have,
it is true, refused to accept me, but you do not know me. And now, here
I am. Please look at me before you repel me again. I am the one who
loves, and am also beloved, and that is all. Nothing beyond this
affection. Nothing but a poor child, found at the door of this church.
You see me at your feet, little, weak, and humble. If I trouble you it
will be very easy for you to send me away. You have only to lift your
little finger to crush me. But think of my tears! Were you to know how
I have suffered, you would be compassionate. I wished, Monseigneur, to
plead my cause in my turn. I love, and that is why I kneel before you,
to tell you so. I am ignorant in many ways; I only know I love.
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