ou
accept my offer, I shall know how to reconcile with my desire (not
a little selfish) of having you near me, the independence of your
character, your habits of labor, your taste for retirement, and your
anxiety to devote yourself to those who deserve commiseration; it is,
I confess, by affording you the means of satisfying these generous
tendencies, that I hope to seduce and keep you by me."

"But what have I done?" asked the other, simply, "to merit any gratitude
from you? Did you not begin, on the contrary, by acting so generously to
my adopted brother?"

"Oh! I do not speak of gratitude," said Adrienne; "we are quits. I speak
of friendship and sincere affection, which I now offer you."

"Friendship to me, madame?"

"Come, come," said Adrienne, with a charming smile, "do not be proud
because your position gives you the advantage. I have set my heart on
having you for a friend, and you will see that it shall be so. But now
that I think of it (a little late, you will say), what good wind brings
you hither?"

"This morning M. Dagobert received a letter, in which he was requested
to come to this place, to learn some news that would be of the greatest
interest to him. Thinking it concerned Marshal Simon's daughters, he
said to me: 'Mother Bunch, you have taken so much interest in those
dear children, that you must come with me: you shall witness my joy on
finding them, and that will be your reward.'"

Adrienne glanced at Rodin. The latter made an affirmative movement of
the head, and answered: "Yes, yes, my dear young lady: it was I who
wrote to the brave soldier, but without signing the letter, or giving
any explanation. You shall know why."

"Then, my dear girl, why did you come alone?" said Adrienne.

"Alas, madame! on arriving here, it was your kind reception that made me
forget my fears."

"What fears?" asked Rodin.

"Knowing that you lived here, madame, I supposed the letter was from
you; I told M. Dagobert so, and he thought the same. When we arrived,
his impatience was so great, that he asked at the door if the orphans
were in this house, and he gave their description. They told him no.
Then, in spite of my supplications, he insisted on going to the convent
to inquire about them."

"What imprudence!" cried Adrienne.

"After what took place the other night, when he broke in," added Rodin,
shrugging his shoulders.

"It was in vain to tell him," returned Mother Bunch, "that the letter
did not annou