ster--that I will work--that I
will have courage!"

Thus saying, the Bacchanal Queen was very sincere; she fully intended
to keep her word, for her heart was not yet completely corrupted. Misery
and want had been with her, as with so many others, the cause and the
excuse of her worst errors. Until now, she had at least followed the
instincts of her heart, without regard to any base or venal motive. The
cruel position in which she beheld Jacques had so far exalted her love,
that she believed herself capable of resuming, along with Mother Bunch,
that life of sterile and incessant toil, full of painful sacrifices and
privations, which once had been impossible for her to bear, and which
the habits of a life of leisure and dissipation would now render still
more difficult.

Still, the assurances which she had just given Jacques calmed his grief
and anxiety a little; he had sense and feeling enough to perceive that
the fatal track which he had hitherto so blindly followed was leading
both him and Cephyse directly to infamy.

One of the bailiffs, having knocked at the coach-door, said to Jacques:
"My lad, you have only five minutes left--so make haste."

"So, courage, my girl--courage!" said Jacques.

"I will; you may rely upon me."

"Are you going upstairs again?"

"No--oh no!" said Cephyse. "I have now a horror of this festivity."

"Everything is paid for, and the waiter will tell them not to expect us
back. They will be much astonished," continued Jacques, "but it's all
the same now."

"If you could only go with me to our lodging," said Cephyse, "this
man would perhaps permit it, so as not to enter Sainte-Pelagie in that
dress."

"Oh! he will not forbid you to accompany me; but, as he will be with
us in the coach, we shall not be able to talk freely in his presence.
Therefore, let me speak reason to you for the first time in my life.
Remember what I say, my dear Cephyse--and the counsel will apply to
me as well as to yourself," continued Jacques, in a grave and feeling
tone--"resume from to-day the habit of labor. It may be painful,
unprofitable--never mind--do not hesitate, for too soon will the
influence of this lesson be forgotten. By-and-bye it will be too late,
and then you will end like so many unfortunate creatures--"

"I understand," said Cephyse, blushing; "but I will rather die than lead
such a life."

"And there you will do well--for in that case," added Jacques, in a deep
and hollow voice, "I wil