hout news of your brother. Ah, that poor Maurice, how I pity him,
shut up in Paris, with no gas, no wood, no bread, perhaps! And that
young man whom you have been nursing, that friend of your brother's--oh!
a little bird has told me all about it--isn't it for his sake you are
here to-day?"

Henriette's conscience smote her, and she did not answer. Was it not
really for Jean's sake that she had come, in order that, the old uncle
being released, the invalid, who had grown so dear to her, might have no
further cause for alarm? It distressed her to hear his name mentioned by
Gilberte; she could not endure the thought of enlisting in his favor an
influence that was of so ambiguous a character. Her inbred scruples of
a pure, honest woman made themselves felt, now it seemed to her that the
rumors of a liaison with the Prussian captain had some foundation.

"Then I'm to understand that it's in behalf of this young man that you
come to us for assistance?" Gilberte insistently went on, as if enjoying
her friend's discomfiture. And as the latter, cornered and unable to
maintain silence longer, finally spoke of Father Fouchard's arrest:
"Why, to be sure! What a silly thing I am--and I was talking of it only
this morning! You did well in coming to us, my dear; we must go about
your uncle's affair at once and see what we can do for him, for the last
news I had was not reassuring. They are on the lookout for someone of
whom to make an example."

"Yes, I have had you in mind all along," Henriette hesitatingly replied.
"I thought you might be willing to assist me with your advice, perhaps
with something more substantial--"

The young woman laughed merrily. "You little goose, I'll have your
uncle released inside three days. Don't you know that I have a Prussian
captain here in the house who stands ready to obey my every order?
Understand, he can refuse me nothing!" And she laughed more heartily
than ever, in the giddy, thoughtless triumph of her coquettish nature,
holding in her own and patting the hands of her friend, who was so
uncomfortable that she could not find words in which to express her
thanks, horrified by the avowal that was implied in what she had just
heard. But how to account for such serenity, such childlike gayety?
"Leave it to me; I'll send you home to-night with a mind at rest."

When they passed into the dining room Henriette was struck by Edmond's
delicate beauty, never having seen him before. She eyed him with t