Paula the Waldensian - Eva Lecomte

"There, that will do," said Mlle. Virtud. "You mustn't tell all the family
secrets. We are here in this world to help others; are we not, Lisita?"
"Yes, Mademoiselle," I answered, and I was filled with fear that there
might be another sermon coming. However, Mlle. Virtud began to tell us of
the rest of the family and of the little village to which they returned at
vacation time; and one could see that her heart was there with her loved
ones. During the next few minutes there was quite a silence, and I began to
shiver with cold, and we noticed that there was no fire in the grate.
"How pale you are," said Mademoiselle; "Are you cold?"
"Yes, a little, Mademoiselle," I said, quite ashamed for my discomfort to
be discovered.
"Poor little girl," she said. Taking my two hands in her two hot ones that
were burning with fever, "You had better not stay here any longer as you are
not accustomed to the cold. Our neighbor made a little fire in the grate this
morning to cook the breakfast with, but it's gone out."
Was it this little touch of tenderness on the part of Mademoiselle, or
remorse for all the wicked feelings I had so long held against my teacher?
Anyway, a flood of tears came as I kneeled beside the bed and hid my face
on the white cover. "Oh, Mademoiselle ... forgive me," I murmured between
by sobs.
All my pride had broken and I saw myself for what I was, guilty, unjust
and cruel toward this young woman whom I had accused of living solely for
herself. I felt a hand passing slowly over my head.
"I forgive you with all my heart, poor child," and the invalid's voice was
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