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 (interposing).—For the present, just clasp me in your arms, if that'll do you any good. ( hugs him.) Hush! someone is coming again. This time I'll lock the door. (Locks door C.)

(knocking outside C.).—Noel!

(aside to ).—It's your sister.

.—Dear little Blanche.

(outside).—Noel!

.—Pooh, pooh! What should we fear? I'll just prepare her for an agreeable surprise. Go hide behind the curtain there. ( conceals himself.)

(outside).—What are you muttering to yourself about? Do open the door.

.—Yes, Mamzelle Blanche.

(entering C.).—Why did you lock yourself in, Noel?

.—Why, so that the dust shouldn't get out.

.—A new idea of yours, I must admit.

(aside).—What nonsense I do talk. (Aloud) To keep the dust in, I mean.

.—Don't be absurd. Mamma has gone for a stroll, with Mathilde. Poor mamma does look so ill.

.—Oh, very ill, Mamzelle Blanche—very ill, indeed. (Hums a tune.)

.—Why, Noel, what has happened to you?

.—Me? Nothing. (Hums.)

.—I speak to you about poor mamma, and you actually commence singing. I never heard the like before. It's not natural. Something has happened, I'm sure.

.—I do look rather queer, don't I? Well, mamzelle, if the truth must be told, I do feel a little flustered. I've just received a piece of extraordinary news, that's all.

.—Good news?

.—Excellent.

.—For me?

.—Yes, and for me, too. For all of us.

.—Oh, Noel, what is it?

.—Guess.

.—About Adrien ?

.—You commence to burn.

.—He has been heard from?

.—Now you are scorching.

.—Oh, my dear, dear brother! There, tell me all, that's a dear Noel. You needn't be a bit afraid. I can stand it. I've got such a head, you know.

.—Without any fainting or nonsense?

.—I faint? Did you ever see me faint?

.—NOEL. I never did—that's true. Well, then, mamzelle—

.—He's here—alive?

.—He is—and safe and well.

.—Oh! what joy for mamma. (Calling) Adrien! Adrien! Where are you?

(comes out).—Not dead, little sister, but dying—to kiss you.

.—You may. I don't believe you are a ghost.

(kisses her).—My own darling little Blanche! (Looks at her.) Why, how pretty the minx has grown. (Kisses her.)

.—Oh! mamma will be so happy, and so will our poor Mathilde, and all of us.

.—To begin, then, Master Adrien, you must be concealed somewhere, at once. (To Blanche) If we only had the key of his room.

.—Mamma always keeps it in her own possession. Stop! Here is her work-basket. The key may be in it. (Rummages in basket.) And here it is.