Piennes, "that I was unable to go to Rome when your good aunt was taken ill. I know the tender care with which you surrounded her, and I thank you very much for the last souvenir of her which you were kind enough to send me."
The face of Max, naturally bright, not to say merry, suddenly became grave.
"She talked so much of you," he said, "even to the last moment. You received her ring I see, and the book she was reading the morning"
"Yes, Max, I thank you. You announced, in sending that sad present, that you were leaving Rome, but you did not give me your address; I did not know where to write you. My poor friend! to die so far from home! Happily, you hastened to her immediately. You are better than you wish to appear. Max—I know you well."
"My aunt said to me during her illness: 'When I am gone, there will be no one left to scold you but Madame de Piennes.'" (And he could not refrain from smiling.) "'Try to avoid her scolding you too often.' You see, madam, that you acquit yourself badly of your prerogative."
"I hope that I shall have a sinecure now.
