as one of anguish and embarrassment. The physician,
who always inspects the dead in France, came to make his report. The
arrangements were to be ordered for the funeral. Fortunately, as
Adrienne then thought, Desiree appeared in the course of the morning,
as one who came in consequence of having been present at so much of the
scene of the preceding day. In her character of a commissionaire she
offered her services, and Adrienne, unaccustomed to act for herself in
such offices, was fain to accept them. She received an order, or rather
an answer to a suggestion of her own, and hurried off to give the
necessary directions. Adrienne was now left alone again with the body
of her deceased grandmother. As soon as the excitement ceased, she
began to feel languid, and she became sensible of her own bodily wants.
Food of no sort had passed her lips in more than thirty hours, and her
last meal had been a scanty breakfast of dry bread. As the faintness of
hunger came over her, Adrienne felt for her purse with the intention of
sending Nathalie to a neighboring baker's, when the truth flashed upon
her, in its dreadful reality. She had not a liard. Her last sou had
furnished the breakfast of the preceding day. A sickness like that of
death came over her, when, casting her eyes around her in despair, they
fell on the little table that usually held the nourishment prepared for
her grandmother. A little arrowroot, and a light potage, that contained
bread, still remained. Although it was all that seemed to separate the
girl from death, she hesitated about using it. There was an appearance
of sacrilege, in her eyes, in the act of appropriating these things to
herself. A moment's reflection, however, brought her to a truer state
of mind, and then she felt it to be a duty to that dear parent herself,
to renew her own strength, in order to discharge her duty to the dead.
She ate, therefore, though it was with a species of holy reverence. Her
strength was renewed, and she was enabled to relieve her soul by prayer.

{liard = half-farthing, the tiniest of coins}

"Mademoiselle will have the goodness to give me ten francs," said
Desiree, on her return; "I have ordered every thing that is proper, but
money is wanting to pay for some little articles that will soon come."

"I have no money, Desiree--not even a sou."

"No money, mademoiselle? In the name of heaven, how are we to bury your
grandmother?"

"The handkerchief--"

Desiree shook her h