dden pause: "No; this noble girl is not
the only person who proves how loftiness of soul, and superiority of
mind, can make us indifferent to the vain advantages which belong only to
the accidents of birth or fortune." At the moment of Adrienne speaking
these last words, Mother Bunch entered the room.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

SUSPICIONS.

Mdlle. de Cardoville sprang hastily to meet the visitor, and said to her,
in a voice of emotion, as she extended her arms towards her:
"Come--come--there is no grating to separate us now!"

On this allusion, which reminded her how her poor, laborious hand had
been respectfully kissed by the fair and rich patrician, the young
workwoman felt a sentiment of gratitude, which was at once ineffable and
proud. But, as she hesitated to respond to the cordial reception,
Adrienne embraced her with touching affection. When Mother Bunch found
herself clasped in the fair arms of Mdlle. de Cardoville, when she felt
the fresh and rosy lips of the young lady fraternally pressed to her own
pale and sickly cheek, she burst into tears without being able to utter a
word. Rodin, retired in a corner of the chamber, locked on this scene
with secret uneasiness. Informed of the refusal, so full of dignity,
which Mother Bunch had opposed to the perfidious temptations of the
superior of St. Mary's Convent, and knowing the deep devotion of this
generous creature for Agricola--a devotion which for some days she had so
bravely extended to Mdlle. de Cardoville--the Jesuit did not like to see
the latter thus laboring to increase that affection. He thought, wisely,
that one should never despise friend or enemy, however small they may
appear. Now, devotion to Mdlle. de Cardoville constituted an enemy in his
eyes; and we know, moreover, that Rodin combined in his character rare
firmness, with a certain degree of superstitious weakness, and he now
felt uneasy at the singular impression of fear which Mother Bunch
inspired in him. He determined to recollect this presentiment.

Delicate natures sometimes display in the smallest things the most
charming instincts of grace and goodness. Thus, when the sewing-girl was
shedding abundant and sweet tears of gratitude, Adrienne took a richly
embroidered handkerchief, and dried the pale and melancholy face. This
action, so simple and spontaneous, spared the work-girl one humiliation;
for, alas! humiliation and suffering are the two gulfs, along the edge of
which misfortune conti