were one of that great family which believes we ought to have our
rights, you know. There are many people who ought to have their rights.
There was Bras-Coupe; indeed, he got them--found them in the swamp.
Maybe Clotilde and I shall find ours in the street. When we unmasked in
the theatre, you know, I did not know you were my landlord, and you did
not know that I could not pay a few picayunes of rent. But you must
excuse those tears; Clotilde is generally a brave little woman, and
would not be so rude as to weep before a stranger; but she is weak
to-day--we are both weak to-day, from the fact that we have eaten
nothing since early morning, although we have abundance of food--for
want of appetite, you understand. You must sometimes be affected the
same way, having the care of so much wealth _of all sorts_."

Honore Grandissime had risen to his feet and was standing with one hand
on the edge of the lofty mantel, his hat in the other dropped at his
side and his eye fixed upon Aurora's beautiful face, whence her small
nervous hand kept dashing aside the tears through which she defiantly
talked and smiled. Clotilde sat with clenched hands buried in her lap,
looking at Aurora and still weeping.

And M. Grandissime was saying to himself:

"If I do this thing now--if I do it here--I do it on an impulse; I do it
under constraint of woman's tears; I do it because I love this woman; I
do it to get out of a corner; I do it in weakness, not in strength; I do
it without having made up my mind whether or not it is the best thing
to do."

And then, without intention, with scarcely more consciousness of
movement than belongs to the undermined tree which settles, roots and
all, into the swollen stream, he turned and moved toward the door.

Clotilde rose.

"Monsieur Grandissime."

He stopped and looked back.

"We will see Palmyre at once, according to your request."

He turned his eyes toward Aurora.

"Yes," said she, and she buried her face in her handkerchief and sobbed
aloud.

She heard his footstep again; it reached the door; the door
opened--closed; she heard his footstep again; was he gone?

He was gone.

The two women threw themselves into each other's arms and wept.
Presently Clotilde left the room. She came back in a moment from the
rear apartment, with a bonnet and veil in her hands.

"No," said Aurora, rising quickly, "I must do it."

"There is no time to lose," said Clotilde. "It will soon be dark."

It wa