ournal.
Certain not to be surprised, she entered the workgirls' chamber, as soon
as the night was come.

Knowing the place where she should find the manuscript, she went
straight to the desk, took out the box, and then, drawing from her
pocket a sealed letter, prepared to leave it in the place of the
manuscript, which she was to carry away with her. So doing, she trembled
so much, that she was obliged to support herself an instant by the
table. Every good sentiment was not extinct in Florine's heart; she
obeyed passively the orders she received, but she felt painfully
how horrible and infamous was her conduct. If only herself had been
concerned, she would no doubt have had the courage to risk all, rather
than submit to this odious despotism; but unfortunately, it was not so,
and her ruin would have caused the mortal despair of another person whom
she loved better than life itself. She resigned herself, therefore, not
without cruel anguish, to abominable treachery.

Though she hardly ever knew for what end she acted, and this was
particularly the case with regard to the abstraction of the journal,
she foresaw vaguely, that the substitution of this sealed letter for
the manuscript would have fatal consequences for Mother Bunch, for she
remembered Rodin's declaration, that "it was time to finish with the
young sempstress."

What did he mean by those words? How would the letter that she was
charged to put in the place of the diary, contribute to bring about
this result? she did not know--but she understood that the clear-sighted
devotion of the hunchback justly alarmed the enemies of Mdlle. de
Cardoville, and that she (Florine) herself daily risked having her
perfidy detected by the young needlewoman. This last fear put an end to
the hesitations of Florine; she placed the letter behind the box, and,
hiding the manuscript under her apron, cautiously withdrew from the
chamber.

CHAPTER XLVII. THE DIARY CONTINUED.

Returned into her own room, some hours after she had concealed there the
manuscript abstracted from Mother Bunch's apartment, Florine yielded
to her curiosity, and determined to look through it. She soon felt a
growing interest, an involuntary emotion, as she read more of these
private thoughts of the young sempstress. Among many pieces of verse,
which all breathed a passionate love for Agricola--a love so deep,
simple, and sincere, that Florine was touched by it, and forgot the
author's deformity--amon