Maxence had not spoken to Mlle. Lucienne for nearly a month. Hetried to persuade himself that she despised him because he was poor.

He kept watching for her, for he could not help it; but as much aspossible he avoided her.

"I shall be miserable," he thought, "the day when she does not comehome; and yet it would be the very best thing that could happenfor me."Nevertheless, he spent all his time trying to find some explanationsfor the conduct of this strange girl, who, beneath her woolen dress,had the haughty manners of a great lady. Then he delighted toimagine between her and himself some of those subjects of confidence,some of those facilities which chance never fails to supply toattentive passion, or some event which would enable him to emergefrom his obscurity, and to acquire some rights by virtue of somegreat service rendered.

But never had he dared to hope for an occasion as propitious as theone he had just seized. And yet, after he had returned to his room,he hardly dared to congratulate himself upon the promptitude of hisdecision. He knew too well Mlle. Lucienne's excessive pride andsensitive nature.

"I should not be surprised if she were angry with me for what I'vedone," he thought.

The evening being quite chilly, he had lighted a few sticks; and,sitting by the fireside, he was waiting, his mind filled with vaguehopes. It seemed to him that his neighbor could not absolve herselffrom coming to thank him; and he was listening intently to all thenoises of the house, starting at the sound of footsteps on thestairs, and at the slamming of doors. Ten times, at least, he wentout on tiptoe to lean out of the window on the landing, to make surethat there was no light in Mlle. Lucienne's room. At eleven o'clockshe had not yet come home; and he was deliberating whether he wouldnot start out in quest of information, when there was a knock at thedoor.

"Come in! "he cried, in a voice choked with emotion. Mlle. Luciennecame in. She was somewhat paler than usual, but calm and perfectlyself-possessed. Having bowed without the slightest shade ofembarrassment, she laid upon the mantel-piece the thirtyfive-franc-notes which Maxence had thrown down to the Fortins; and,in her most natural tone,"Here are your hundred and fifty francs, sir," she uttered. "I ammore grateful than I can express for your prompt kindness in lendingthem to me; but I did not need them."Maxence had risen from his seat, and was making every effort tocontrol his own feelings.

"Still," he began, "after what I heard""Yes," she interrupted, "Mme. Fortin and her husband were trying tofrighten me. But they were losing their time. When, after theCommune, I settled with them the manner in which I would dischargemy debt towards them, having a just estimate of their worth, Imade them write out and sign our agreement. Being in the right, Icould resist them, and was resisting them when you threw them thosehundred and fifty francs. Having laid hands upon them, they had thepretension to keep them. That's what I could not suffer. Not beingable to recover them by main force, I went at once to the commissaryof police. He was luckily at his office. He is an honest man, whoalready, once before, helped me out of a scrape. He listened to mekindly, and was moved by my explanations. Notwithstanding thelateness of the hour, he put on his overcoat, and came with me tosee our landlord. After compelling them to return me your money, hesignified to them to observe strictly our agreement, under penaltyof incurring his utmost severity."Maxence was wonderstruck.

"How could you dare?" he said.

"Wasn't I in the right?

"Oh, a thousand times yes! Still""What? Should my right be less respected because I am but a woman?

And, because I have no one to protect me, am I outside the law, andcondemned in advance to suffer the iniquitous fancies of everyscoundrel? No, thank Heaven! Henceforth I shall feel easy. Peoplelike the Fortins, who live of I know not what shameful traffic, havetoo much to fear from the police to dare to molest me further."The resentment of the insult could be read in her great black eyes;and a bitter disgust contracted her lips.

"Besides," she added, "the commissary had no need of my explanationsto understand what abject inspirations the Fortins were following.

The wretches had in their pocket the wages of their infamy. Inrefusing me my key, in throwing me out in the street at ten o'clockat night, they hoped to drive me to seek the assistance of the basecoward who paid their odious treason. And we know the price whichmen demand for the slightest service they render to a woman."Maxence turned pale. The idea flashed upon his mind that it was tohim, perhaps, that these last words were addressed.

"Ah, I swear it! "he exclaimed, "it is without after-thought thatI tried to help you. You do not owe me any thanks even.""I do not thank you any the less, though," she said gently, "andfrom the bottom of my heart""It was so little!

"Intention alone makes the value of a service, neighbor. And,besides, do not say that a hundred and fifty francs are nothing toyou: perhaps you do not earn much more each month.""I confess it," he said, blushing a little.

"You see, then? No, it was not to you that my words were addressed,but to the man who has paid the Fortins. He was waiting on theBoulevard, the result of the manoeuvre, which, they thought, wasabout to place me at his mercy. He ran quickly to me when I wentout, and followed me all the way to the office of the commissaryof police, as he follows me everywhere for the past month, with hissickening gallantries and his degrading propositions."The eye flashing with anger,"Ab, if I had known! " exclaimed Maxence. "If you had told me buta word!"She smiled at his vehemence.

"What would you have done? " she said. "You cannot impartintelligence to a fool, heart to a coward, or delicacy of feelingto a boor.""I could have chastised the miserable insulter."She had a superb gesture of indifference.

"Bash!" she interrupted. "What are insults to me? I am soaccustomed to them, that they no longer have any effect upon me.

I am eighteen: I have neither family, relatives, friends, nor anyone in the world who even knows my existence; and I live by mylabor. Can't you see what must be the humiliations of each day?

Since I was eight years old, I have been earning the bread I eat,the dress I wear, and the rent of the den where I sleep. Can youunderstand what I have endured, to what ignominies I have beenexposed, what traps have been set for me, and how it has happenedto me sometimes to owe my safety to mere physical force? And yetI do not complain, since through it all I have been able to retainthe respect of myself, and to remain virtuous in spite of all."She was laughing a laugh that had something wild in it.

And, as Maxence was looking at her with immense surprise,"That seems strange to you, doesn't it?" she resumed. "A girl ofeighteen, without a sou, free as air, very pretty, and yet virtuousin the midst of Paris. Probably you don't believe it, or, if youdo, you just think, 'What on earth does she make by it?'

"And really you are right; for, after all, who cares, and who thinksany the more of me, if I work sixteen hours a day to remain virtuous?

But it's a fancy of my own; and don't imagine for a moment that I amdeterred by any scruples, or by timidity, or ignorance. No, no!

I believe in nothing. I fear nothing; and I know as much as theoldest libertines, the most vicious, and the most depraved. And Idon't say that I have not been tempted sometimes, when, coming homefrom work, I'd see some of them coming out of the restaurants,splendidly dressed, on their lover's arm, and getting into carriagesto go to the theatre. There were moments when I was cold and hungry,and when, not knowing where to sleep, I wandered all night throughthe streets like a lost dog. There were hours when I felt sick ofall this misery, and when I said to myself, that, since it was myfate to end in the hospital, I might as well make the trip gayly.

But what! I should have had to traffic my person, to sell myself!"She shuddered, and in a hoarse voice,"I would rather die," she said.

It was difficult to reconcile words such as these with certaincircumstances of Mlle. Lucienne's existence, - her rides around thelake, for instance, in that carriage that came for her two or threetimes a week; her ever renewed costumes, each time more eccentricand more showy. But Maxence was not thinking of that. What shetold him he accepted as absolutely true and indisputable. And hefelt penetrated with an almost religious admiration for this youngand beautiful girl, possessed of so much vivid energy, who alone,through the hazards, the perils, and the temptations of Paris, hadsucceeded in protecting and defending herself.

"And yet," he said, "without suspecting it, you had a friend nearyou."She shuddered; and a pale smile flitted upon her lips. She knewwell enough what friendship means between a youth of twenty-fiveand a girl of eighteen.

"A friend!" she murmured.

Maxence guessed her thought; and, in all the sincerity of his soul,"Yes, a friend," he repeated, "a comrade, a brother." And thinkingto touch her, and gain her confidence,"I could understand you," he added; "for I, too, have been veryunhappy."But he was singularly mistaken. She looked at him with an astonishedair, and slowly,"You unhappy!" she uttered, - "you who have a family, relations, amother who adores you, a sister." Less excited, Maxence might havewondered how she had found this out, and would have concluded thatshe must feel some interest in him, since she had doubtless takenthe trouble of getting information.

"Besides, you are a man," she went on; "and I do not understand howa man can complain. Have you not the freedom, the strength, and theright to undertake and to dare any thing? Isn't the world open toyour activity and to your ambition? Woman submits to her fate: manmakes his."This was hurting the dearest pretensions of Maxence, who seriouslythought that he had exhausted the rigors of adversity.

" There are circumstances," he began.

But she shrugged her shoulders gently, and, interrupting him,"Do not insist," she said, "or else I might think that you lackenergy. What are you talking of circumstances? There are noneso adverse but that can be overcome. What would you like, then?

To be born with a hundred thousand francs a year, and have nothingto do but to live according to your whim of each day, idle, satiated,a burden upon yourself, useless, or offensive to others? Ah! If Iwere a man, I would dream of another fate. I should like to startfrom the Foundling Asylum, without a name, and by my will, myintelligence, my daring, and my labor, make something and somebodyof myself. I would start from nothing, and become every thing!"With flashing eyes and quivering nostrils, she drew herself upproudly. But almost at once, dropping her head,"The misfortune is," she added, "that I am but a woman; and you whocomplain, if you only knew "She sat down, and with her elbow on the little table, her headresting upon her hand, she remained lost in her meditations, hereyes fixed, as if following through space all the phases of theeighteen years of her life.

There is no energy but unbends at some given moment, no will buthas its hour of weakness; and, strong and energetic as was Mlle.

Lucienne, she had been deeply touched by Maxence's act. Had she,then, found at last upon her path the companion of whom she hadoften dreamed in the despairing hours of solitude and wretchedness?

After a few moments, she raised her head, and, looking intoMaxence's eyes with a gaze that made him quiver like the shock ofan electric battery,"Doubtless," she said, in a tone of indifference somewhat forced,"you think you have in me a strange neighbor. Well, as betweenneighbors; it is well to know each other. Before you judge me,listen."The recommendation was useless. Maxence was listening with allthe powers of his attention.

"I was brought up," she began, "in a village of the neighborhood ofParis, - in Louveciennes. My mother had put me out to nurse withsome honest gardeners, poor, and burdened with a large family.

After two months, hearing nothing of my mother, they wrote toher: she made no answer. They then went to Paris, and called atthe address she had given them. She had just moved out; and no oneknew what had become of her. They could no longer, therefore,expect a single sou for the cares they would bestow upon me. Theykept me, nevertheless, thinking that one child the more would notmake much difference. I know nothing of my parents, therefore,except what I heard through these kind gardeners; and, as I wasstill quite young when I had the misfortune to lose them, I havebut a very vague remembrance of what they told me. I remember verywell, however, that according to their statements, my mother was ayoung working-woman of rare beauty, and that, very likely, she wasnot my father's wife. If I was ever told the name of my mother ormy father, if I ever knew it, I have quite forgotten it. I hadmyself no name. My adopted parents called me the Parisian. I washappy, nevertheless, with these kind people, and treated exactlylike their own children. In winter, they sent me to school; insummer, I helped weeding the garden. I drove a sheep or two alongthe road, or else I went to gather violets and strawberriesthrough the woods.

"This was the happiest, indeed, the only happy time of my life,towards which my thoughts may turn when I feel despair anddiscouragement getting the better of me. Alas! I was but eight,when, within the same week, the gardener and his wife were bothcarried off by the same disease, - inflammation of the lungs.

"On a freezing December morning, in that house upon which the handof death had just fallen, we found ourselves, six children, theoldest of whom was not eleven, crying with grief, fright, cold,and hunger.

"Neither the gardener nor his wife had any relatives; and theyleft nothing but a few wretched pieces of furniture, the sale ofwhich barely sufficed to pay the expenses of their funeral. Thetwo younger children were taken to an asylum: the others were takencharge of by the neighbors.

"It was a laundress of Marly who took me. I was quite tall andstrong for my age. She made an apprentice of me. She was notunkind by nature; but she was violent and brutal in the extreme.

She compelled me to do an excessive amount of work, and often of akind above my strength.

"Fifty times a day, I had to go from the river to the house,carrying on my shoulders enormous bundles of wet napkins or sheets,wring them, spread them out, and then run to Rueil to get the soiledclothes from the customers. I did not complain (I was already tooproud to complain); but, if I was ordered to do something that seemedto me too unjust, I refused obstinately to obey, and then I wasunmercifully beaten. In spite of all, I might, perhaps, have becomeattached to the woman, had she not had the disgusting habit ofdrinking. Every week regularly, on the day when she took the clothesto Paris (it was on Wednesdays), she came home drunk. And then,according as, with the fumes of the wine, anger or gayety rose toher brain, there were atrocious scenes or obscene jests.

"When she was in that condition, she inspired me with horror. Andone Wednesday, as I showed my feelings too plainly, she struck meso hard, that she broke my arm. I had been with, her for twentymonths. The injury she had done me sobered her at once. Shebecame frightened, overpowered me with caresses, begging me to saynothing to any one. I promised, and kept faithfully my word.

But a physician had to be called in. There had been witnesses whospoke. The story spread along the river, as far as Bougival andRueil. And one morning an officer of gendarmes called at the house;and I don't exactly know what would have happened, if I had notobstinately maintained that I had broken my arm in falling downstairs."What surprised Maxence most was Mlle. Lucienne's simple and naturaltone. No emphasis, scarcely an appearance of emotion. One mighthave thought it was somebody's else life that she was narrating.

Meantime she was going on,"Thanks to my obstinate denials the woman was not disturbed. Butthe truth was known; and her reputation, which was not good before,became altogether bad. I became an object of interest. The verysame people who had seen me twenty times staggering painfully undera load of wet clothes, which was terrible, began to pity meprodigiously because I had had an arm broken, which was nothing.

"At last a number of our customers arranged to take me out of ahouse, in which, they said, I must end by perishing under badtreatment.

"And, after many fruitless efforts, they discovered, at last, atLa Jonchere, an old Jewess lady, very rich, and a widow withoutchildren, who consented to take charge of me.

"I hesitated at first to accept these offers; but noticing that thelaundress, since she had hurt me, had conceived a still greateraversion for me, I made up my mind to leave her.

"It was on the day when I was introduced to my new mistress that Ifirst discovered I had no name. After examining me at length,turning me around and around, making me walk, and sit down, 'Now,'

she inquired, 'what is your name?'

"I stared at her in surprise; for indeed I was then like a savage,not having the slightest notions of the things of life.

"'My name is the Parisian,' I replied.

"She burst out laughing, as also another old lady, a friend of hers,who assisted at my presentation; and I remember that my little pridewas quite offended at their hilarity. I thought they were laughingat me.

"'That's not a name,' they said at last. 'That's a nickname.'

"'I have no other.'

"They seemed dumfounded, repeating over and over that such a thingwas unheard of; and on the spot they began to look for a name for me.

"Where were you born!" inquired my new mistress.

"'At Louveciennes.'

Very well,' said the other: 'let us call her Louvecienne.'

"A long discussion followed, which irritated me so much that I feltlike running away; and it was agreed at last, that I should becalled, not Louvecienne, but Lucienne; and Lucienne I have remained.

"There was nothing said about baptism, since my new mistress was aJewess.

"She was an excellent woman, although the grief she had felt at theloss of her husband had somewhat deranged her faculties.

"As soon as it was decided that I was to remain, she desired toinspect my trousseau. I had none to show her, possessing nothingin the world but the rags on my back. As long as I had remainedwith the laundress, I had finished wearing out her old dresses; andI had never worn any other under-clothing save that which I borrowed,'by authority,' from the clients, - an economical system adopted bymany laundresses.

"Dismayed at my state of destitution, my new mistress sent for aseamstress, and at once ordered wherewith to dress and change me.

"Since the death of the poor gardeners, this was the first time thatany one paid any attention to me, except to exact some service of me.

I was moved to tears; and, in the excess of my gratitude, I wouldgladly have died for that kind old lady.

"This feeling gave me the courage and the constancy required to bearwith her whimsical nature. She had singular manias, disconcertingfancies, ridiculous and often exorbitant exactions. I lent myselfto it all as best I could.

"As she already had two servants, a cook and a chambermaid, I hadmyself no special duties in the house. I accompanied her when shewent out riding. I helped to wait on her at table, and to dress her.

I picked up her handkerchief when she dropped it; and, above all, Ilooked for her snuff-box, which she was continually mislaying.

"She was pleased with my docility, took much interest in me, and,that I might read to her, she made me learn to read, for I hardlyknew my letters. And the old man whom she gave me for a teacher,finding me intelligent, taught me all he knew, I imagine, of French,of geography, and of history.

"The chambermaid, on the other hand, had been commissioned to teachme to sew, to embroider, and to execute all sorts of fancy-work;and she took the more interest in her lessons, that little by littleshe shifted upon me the most tedious part of her work.

"I would have been happy in that pretty house at La Jonchere, if Ihad only had some society better suited to my age than the old womenwith whom I was compelled to live, and who scolded me for a loudword or a somewhat abrupt gesture. What would I not have given tohave been allowed to play with the young girls whom I saw on Sundayspassing in crowds along the road!

"As time went on, my old mistress became more and more attached tome, and endeavored in every way to give me proofs of her affection.

I sat at table with her, instead of waiting on her, as at first.

She had given me clothes, so that she could take me and introduceme anywhere.

"She went about repeating everywhere that she was as fond of me asof a daughter; that she intended to set me up in life; and thatcertainly she would leave a part of her fortune to me.

"Alas! She said it too loud, for my misfortune, - so loud, thatthe news reached at last the ears of some nephews of hers in Paris,who came once in a while to La Jonchere.

"They had never paid much attention to me up to this time. Thosespeeches opened their eyes: they noticed what progress I had madein the heart of their relative; and their cupidity became alarmed.

"Trembling lest they should lose an inheritance which theyconsidered as theirs, they united against me, determined to put astop to their aunt's generous intentions by having me sent off.

"But it was in vain, that, for nearly a year, their hatred exhausteditself in skillful manceuvres.

"The instinct of preservation stimulating my perspicacity I hadpenetrated their intentions, and I was struggling with all my might.

Every day, to make myself more indispensable, I invented some novelattention.

"They only came once a week to La Jonchere: I was there all the time.

I had the advantage. I struggled successfully, and was probablyapproaching the end of my troubles, when my poor old mistress wastaken sick. After forty-eight hours, she was very low. She wasfully conscious, but for that very reason she could appreciate thedanger; and the fear of death made her crazy.

"Her nieces had come to sit by her bedside; and I was expresslyforbidden to enter the room. They had understood that this was anexcellent opportunity to get rid of me forever.

"Evidently gained in advance, the physicians declared to my poorbenefactress that the air of La Jonchere was fatal to her, andthat her only chance of recovery was to establish herself in Paris.

One of her nephews offered to have her taken to his house in alitter. She would soon get well, they said; and she could then goto finish her convalescence in some southern city.

"Her first word was for me. She did not wish to be separated fromme, she protested, and insisted absolutely upon taking me with her.

Her nephews represented gravely to her that this was animpossibility; that she must not think of burdening herself withme; that the simplest thing was to leave me at La Jonchere; andthat, moreover, they would see that I should get a good situation.

"The sick woman struggled for a long time, and with an energy ofwhich I would not have thought her capable.

"But the others were pressing. The physicians kept repeating thatthey could not answer for any thing, if she did not follow theiradvice. She was afraid of death. She yielded, weeping.

"The very next morning, a sort of litter, carried by eight men,stopped in front of the door. My poor mistress was laid into it;and they carried her off, without even permitting me to kiss herfor the last time.

"Two hours later, the cook and the chambermaid were dismissed. Asto myself, the nephew who had promised to look after me put atwenty-franc-piece in my hand saying, 'Here are your eight days inadvance. Pack up your things immediately, and clear out!

It was impossible that Mlle. Lucienne should not be deeply movedwhilst thus stirring the ashes of her past. She showed no evidenceof it, however, except, now and then, a slight alteration in hervoice.

As to Maxence, he would vainly have tried to conceal the passionateinterest with which he was listening to these unexpected confidences.

"Have you, then, never seen your benefactress again?" he asked.

"Never," replied Mlle. Lucienne. "All my efforts to reach her haveproved fruitless. She does not live in Paris now. I have writtento her: my letters have remained without answer. Did she ever getthem? I think not. Something tells me that she has not forgottenme."She remained silent for a few moments, as if collecting herselfbefore resuming the thread of her narrative. And then,"It was thus brutally," she resumed, "that I was sent off. Itwould have been useless to beg, I knew; and, moreover, I have neverknown how to beg. I piled up hurriedly in two trunks and in somebandboxes all I had in the world, - all I had received from thegenerosity of my poor mistress; and, before the stated hour, I wasready. The cook and the chambermaid had already gone. The man whowas treating me so cruelly was waiting for me. He helped me carryout my boxes and trunks, after which he locked the door, put thekey in his pocket; and, as the American omnibus was passing, hebeckoned to it to stop. And then, before entering it,Good luck, my pretty girl !' he said with a laugh.

"This was in the month of January, 1866. I was just thirteen. Ihave had since more terrible trials, and I have found myself in muchmore desperate situations: but I do not remember ever feeling suchintense discouragement as I did that day, when I found myself aloneupon that road, not knowing which way to go. I sat down on one ofmy trunks. The weather was cold and gloomy: there were few personson the road. They looked at me, doubtless wondering what I was doingthere. I wept. I had a vague feeling that the well-meant kindnessof my poor benefactress, in bestowing upon me the blessings ofeducation, would in reality prove a serious impediment in thelife-struggle which I was about to begin again. I thought of whatI suffered with the laundress; and, at the idea of the tortureswhich the future still held in store for me, I desired death. TheSeine was near: why not put an end at once to the miserableexistence which I foresaw?

"Such were my reflections, when a woman from Rueil, avegetable-vender, whom I knew by sight, happened to pass, pushingher hand-cart before her over the muddy pavement. She stopped whenshe saw me; and, in the softest voice she could command.

"'What are you doing there, my darling?' she asked.

"In a few words I explained to her my situation. She seemed moresurprised than moved.

"'Such is life,' she remarked, -' sometimes up, sometimes down.'

"And, stepping up nearer,"'What do you expect to do now?' she interrogated in a tone of voiceso different from that in which she had spoken at first, that I feltmore keenly the horror of my altered situation.

"'I have no idea,' I replied.

"After thinking for a moment,"'You can't stay there,' she resumed: 'the gendarmes would arrestyou. Come with me. We will talk things over at the house; andI'll give you my advice.'

"I was so completely crushed, that I had neither strength nor will.

Besides, what was the use of thinking? Had I any choice ofresolutions? Finally, the woman's offer seemed to me a last favorof destiny.

"'I shall do as you say, madame,' I replied:

"She proceeded at once to load up my little baggage on her cart.

We started; and soon we arrived 'home.'

"What she called thus was a sort of cellar, at least twelve incheslower than the street, receiving its only light through the glassdoor, in which several broken panes had been replaced by sheets ofpaper. It was revoltingly filthy, and filled with a sickening odor.

On all sides were heaps of vegetables, - cabbages, potatoes, onions.

In one corner a nameless heap of decaying rags, which she calledher bed; in the centre, a small cast-iron stove, the worn-out pipeof which allowed the smoke to escape in the room.

"Anyway,' she said to me, 'you have a home now!'

"I helped her to unload the cart. She filled the stove with coal,and at once declared that she wanted to inspect my things.

"My trunks were opened; and it was with exclamations of surprisethat the woman handled my dresses, my skirts, my stockings.

"'The mischief!' she exclaimed, 'you dressed well, didn't you?'

"Her eyes sparkled so, that a strong feeling of mistrust arose inmy mind. She seemed to consider all my property as an unexpectedgodsend to herself. Her hands trembled as she handled some pieceof jewelry; and she took me to the light that she might betterestimate the value of my ear-rings.

"And so, when she asked me if I had any money, determined to hideat least my twenty-franc-piece, which was my sole fortune, I repliedboldly, 'No.'

That's a pity,' she grumbled.

"But she wished to know my history, and I was compelled to tell itto her. One thing only surprised her, - my age; and in fact, thoughonly thirteen, I looked fully sixteen.

"When I had done,"'Never mind!' she said. 'It was lucky for you that you met me.

You are at least certain now of eating every day; for I am goingto take charge of you. I am getting old: you'll help me to dragmy cart. If you are as smart as you are pretty, we'll make money.'

"Nothing could suit me less. But how could I resist? She threw afew rags upon the floor; and on them I had to sleep. The next day,wearing my meanest dress, and a pair of wooden shoes which she hadbought for me, and which bruised my feet horribly, I had to harnessmyself to the cart by means of a leather strap, which cut myshoulders and my chest. She was an abominable creature, that woman;and I soon found out that her repulsive features indicated but toowell her ignoble instincts. After leading a life of vice and shame,she had, with the approach of hold age, fallen into the most abjectpoverty, and had adopted the trade of vegetable-vender, which shecarried on just enough to escape absolute starvation. Enraged ather fate, she found a detestable pleasure in ill-treating me, orin endeavoring to stain my imagination by the foulest speeches.

"Ah, if I had only known where to fly, and where to take refuge!

But, abusing my ignorance, that execrable woman had persuaded me,that, if I attempted to go out alone, I would be arrested. And Iknew no one to whom I could apply for protection and advice. Andthen I began to learn that beauty, to a poor girl, is a fatal gift.

One by one, the woman had sold every thing I had, - dresses,underclothes, jewels; and I was now reduced to rags almost as meanas when I was with the laundress.

"Every morning, rain or shine, hot or cold, we started, wheelingour cart from village to village, all along the Seine, fromCourbevoie to Pont-Marly. I could see no end to this wretchedexistence, when one evening the commissary of police presentedhimself at our hovel, and ordered us to follow him.

"We were taken to prison; and there I found myself thrown amongsome hundred women, whose faces, words, and gestures frightenedme. The vegetable-woman had committed a theft; and I was accusedof complicity. Fortunately I was easily able to demonstrate myinnocence; and, at the end of two weeks, a jailer opened the doorto me, saying, 'Go: you are free!'"Maxence understood now the gently ironical smile with which Mlle.

Lucienne had heard him assert that he, too, had been very unhappy.

What a life hers had been! And how could such things be within astep of Paris, in the midst of a society which deems its organizationtoo perfect to consent to modify it!

Mlle. Lucienne went on, speaking somewhat faster,"I was indeed free; but of what use could my freedom be to me? Iknew not which way to go. A mechanical instinct took me back toRueil. I fancied I would be safer among people who all knew me,and that I might find shelter in our old lodgings. But thislast hope was disappointed. Immediately after our arrest, theowner of the building had thrown out every thing it contained, andhad rented it to a hideous beggar, who offered me, with a giggle,to become his housekeeper. I ran off as fast as I could.

"The situation was certainly more horrible now than the day whenI had been turned out of my benefactress' house. But the eightmonths I had just spent with the horrible woman had taught me anewhow to bear misery, and had nerved up my energy.

"I took out from a fold of my dress, where I had kept it constantlyhid, the twenty-franc-piece I had received; and, as I was hungry,I entered a sort of eating and lodging house, where I hadoccasionally taken a meal. The proprietor was a kind-hearted man.

When I had told him my situation, he invited me to remain withhim until I could find something better. On Sundays and Mondaysthe customers were plenty; and he was obliged to take an extraservant. He offered me that work to do, promising, in exchange,my lodging and one meal a day. I accepted. The next day beingSunday, I commenced the arduous duties of a bar-maid in a lowdrinking house. My pourboires amounted sometimes to five or tenfrancs; I had my board and lodging free; and at the end of threemonths I had been able to provide myself with some decent clothing,and was commencing to accumulate a little reserve, when thelodging-house keeper, whose business had unexpectedly developeditself to a considerable extent, concluded to engage a man-waiter,and urged me to look elsewhere for work. I did so. An old neighborof ours told me of a situation at Bougival, where she said I wouldbe very comfortable. Overcoming my repugnance, I applied, and wasaccepted. I was to get thirty francs a month.

"The place might have been a good one. There were only three inthe family, - the gentleman and his wife, and a son of twenty-five.

Every morning, father and son left for Paris by the first train,and only came home to dinner at about six o'clock. I was thereforealone all day with the woman. Unfortunately, she was a cross anddisagreeable person, who, never having had a servant before, feltan insatiable desire of showing and exercising her authority. Shewas, moreover, extremely suspicious, and found some pretext to visitregularly my trunks once or twice a week, to see if I had notconcealed some of her napkins or silver spoons. Having told herthat I had once been a laundress, she made me wash and iron all theclothes in the house, and was forever accusing me of using too muchsoap and too much coal. Still I liked the place well enough; and Ihad a little room in the attic; which I thought charming, and whereI spent delightful evenings reading or sewing.

"But luck was against me. The young gentleman of the house took afancy to me, and determined to make me his mistress. I discouragedhim in a way; but he persisted in his loathsome attention, until onenight he broke into my room, and I was compelled to shout for helpwith all my might, before I could get rid of him.

"The next day I left that house; but I tried in vain to find anothersituation in Bougival. I resolved then to seek a place in Paris.

I had a big trunk full of good clothes, and about a hundred francsof savings; and I felt no anxiety.

"When I arrived in Paris, I went straight to an intelligence-office.

I was extremely well received by a very affable old woman whopromised to get me a good place, and, in the mean time, solicitedme to board with her. She kept a sort of boarding-house for servantsout of place; and there were there some fifty or sixty of us, whoslept at night in long dormitories.

"Time went by, and still I did not find that famous place. Theboard was expensive, too, for my scanty means; and I determined toleave. I started in quest of new lodgings, followed by a porter,carrying my trunk; but as I was crossing the Boulevard, not gettingquick enough out of the way of a handsome private carriage whichwas coming at full trot, I was knocked down, and trampled under thehorses's feet."Without allowing Maxence to interrupt her,"I had lost consciousness," went on Mlle. Lucienne. "When I cameto my senses, I was sitting in a drugstore; and three or fourpersons were busy around me. I had ............