less, sinful--while you were
so hardworking, so devoted to all who suffered. What should I say?
You were an angel on the earth; and yet you will die like me, who have
fallen as low as a woman can fall," added the unfortunate, casting down
her eyes.

"It is strange," answered Mother Bunch, thoughtfully. "Starting from the
same point, we have followed different roads, and yet we have reached
the same goal--disgust of life. For you, my poor sister, but a few days
ago, life was so fair, so full of pleasure and of youth; and now it is
equally heavy with us both. After all, I have followed to the end what
was my duty," added she, mildly. "Agricola no longer needs me. He is
married; he loves, and is beloved; his happiness is secured. Mdlle. de
Cardoville wants for nothing. Fair, rich, prosperous--what could a poor
creature like myself do for her? Those who have been kind to me are
happy. What prevents my going now to my rest? I am so weary!"

"Poor sister!" said Cephyse, with touching emotion, which seemed to
expand her contracted features; "when I think that, without informing
me, and in spite of your resolution never to see that generous young
lady, who protected you, you yet had the courage to drag yourself to
her house, dying with fatigue and want, to try to interest her in my
fate--yes, dying, for your strength failed on the Champs-Elysees."

"And when I was able to reach the mansion, Mdlle. de Cardoville was
unfortunately absent--very unfortunately!" repeated the hunchback, as
she looked at Cephyse with anguish; "for the next day, seeing that our
last resource had failed us, thinking more of me than of yourself, and
determined at any price to procure us bread--"

She could not finish. She buried her face in her hands, and shuddered.

"Well, I did as so many other hapless women have done when work fails or
wages do not suffice, and hunger becomes too pressing," replied Cephyse,
in a broken voice; "only that, unlike so many others, instead of living
on my shame, I shall die of it."

"Alas! this terrible shame which kills you, my poor Cephyse, because you
have a heart, would have been averted, had I seen Mdlle. de Cardoville,
or had she but answered the letter which I asked leave to write to her
at the porter's lodge. But her silence proves to me that she is justly
hurt at my abrupt departure from her house. I can understand it; she
believes me guilty of the blackest ingratitude--for she must have been
greatly offende