ng to be rude at the baker's. And one morning the old servant
came home with the meat from the butcher's in tears, saying that he had
given her the refuse. A few days more and they would be unable to obtain
anything on credit. It had become absolutely necessary to consider how
they should find the money for their small daily expenses.

One Monday morning, the beginning of another week of torture, Clotilde
was very restless. A struggle seemed to be going on within her, and it
was only when she saw Pascal refuse at breakfast his share of a piece of
beef which had been left over from the day before that she at last came
to a decision. Then with a calm and resolute air, she went out after
breakfast with Martine, after quietly putting into the basket of the
latter a little package--some articles of dress which she was giving
her, she said.

When she returned two hours later she was very pale. But her large eyes,
so clear and frank, were shining. She went up to the doctor at once and
made her confession.

"I must ask your forgiveness, master, for I have just been disobeying
you, and I know that I am going to pain you greatly."

"Why, what have you been doing?" he asked uneasily, not understanding
what she meant.

Slowly, without removing her eyes from him, she drew from her pocket
an envelope, from which she took some bank-notes. A sudden intuition
enlightened him, and he cried:

"Ah, my God! the jewels, the presents I gave you!"

And he, who was usually so good-tempered and gentle, was convulsed with
grief and anger. He seized her hands in his, crushing with almost brutal
force the fingers which held the notes.

"My God! what have you done, unhappy girl? It is my heart that you have
sold, both our hearts, that had entered into those jewels, which
you have given with them for money! The jewels which I gave you, the
souvenirs of our divinest hours, your property, yours only, how can
you wish me to take them back, to turn them to my profit? Can it be
possible--have you thought of the anguish that this would give me?"

"And you, master," she answered gently, "do you think that I could
consent to our remaining in the unhappy situation in which we are, in
want of everything, while I had these rings and necklaces and earrings
laid away in the bottom of a drawer? Why, my whole being would rise in
protest. I should think myself a miser, a selfish wretch, if I had
kept them any longer. And, although it was a grief for me to