"Monseigneur . . . Monseigneur . . ." she stammered.
"Yes, my child,--what is it?" said the Cardinal kindly--"Do not be
afraid,--I am at your service. You have brought the little friend
you spoke to me of yesterday?"
Babette peeped shyly at him through her tears, and drooping her
head, answered with a somewhat smothered "Yes."
"That is well,--I will go to him at once,"--and the Cardinal paused
a moment looking at Manuel, who as if responding to his unuttered
wish, rose and approached him--"And you, Manuel--you will also come.
You see, my child," went on the good prelate addressing Babette, the
while he laid a gently caressing hand on her hair--"Another little
friend has come to me who is also very sad,--and though he is not
crippled or ill, he is all alone in the world, which is, for one so
young, a great hardship. You must be sorry for him too, as well as
for your own poor playmate."
But Babette was seized with an extraordinary timidity, and had much
ado to keep back the tears that rose in her throat and threatened to
break out in a burst of convulsive sobbing. She did not know in the
least what was the matter with her,--she was only conscious of an
immense confusion and shyness which were quite new to her ordinarily
bold and careless nature.
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