oment, a modest knock was heard at the door. "Come in," said
Mother Bunch. Florine appeared.

"My mistress begs that you will come to her, if you are not engaged,"
said Florine to Mother Bunch.

The latter rose, and, addressing the smith, said to him: "Please wait a
moment, Agricola. I will ask Mdlle. de Cardoville what day I can dispose
of, and I will come and tell you." So saying, the girl went out, leaving
Agricola with Florine.

"I should have much wished to pay my respects to Mdlle. de Cardoville,"
said Agricola; "but I feared to intrude."

"My lady is not quite well, sir," said Florine, "and receives no one to
day. I am sure, that as soon as she is better, she will be quite pleased
to see you."

Here Mother Bunch returned, and said to Agricola: "If you can come for
me to-morrow, about three o'clock, so as not to lose the whole day, we
will go to the factory, and you can bring me back in the evening."

"Then, at three o'clock to-morrow, my good sister."

"At three to-morrow, Agricola."

The evening of that same day, when all was quiet in the hotel, Mother
Bunch, who had remained till ten o'clock with Mdlle. de Cardoville, re
entered her bedchamber, locked the door after her, and finding herself
at length free and unrestrained, threw herself on her knees before a
chair, and burst into tears. She wept long--very long. When her tears at
length ceased to flow, she dried her eyes, approached the writing-desk,
drew out one of the boxes from the pigeonhole, and, taking from this
hiding-place the manuscript which Florine had so rapidly glanced over
the evening before, she wrote in it during a portion of the night.

CHAPTER XLVI. MOTHER BUNCH'S DIARY.

We have said that the hunchback wrote during a portion of the night,
in the book discovered the previous evening by Florine, who had not
ventured to take it away, until she had informed the persons who
employed her of its contents, and until she had received their final
orders on the subject. Let us explain the existence of this manuscript,
before opening it to the reader. The day on which Mother Bunch first
became aware of her love for Agricola, the first word of this manuscript
had been written. Endowed with an essentially trusting character, yet
always feeling herself restrained by the dread of ridicule--a dread
which, in its painful exaggeration, was the workgirl's only weakness--to
whom could the unfortunate creature have confided the secret of that
fat