on be
beyond the reach of want?" "Yes," answered the friend, "I needn't worry
any more about the future."

"I congratulate you," said the widow, "and what is more, your lover will
never see you grow old."

To be cast adrift on the sea and to have found a providential spar! The
widow was greatly impressed by her friend's rare good fortune. Indeed,
her experience gave the widow furiously to think, as she revolved in her
brain various expedients by which Georges de Saint Pierre might become
the "providential spar" in her own impending wreck. The picture of
the blind young man tenderly cared for, dependent utterly on the
ministrations of his devoted wife, fixed itself in the widow's mind;
there was something inexpressibly pathetic in the picture, whilst its
practical significance had its sinister appeal to one in her situation.

At this point in the story there appears on the scene a character as
remarkable in his way as the widow herself, remarkable at least for
his share in the drama that is to follow. Nathalis Gaudry, of humble
parentage, rude and uncultivated, had been a playmate of the widow when
she was a child in her parents' house.

They had grown up together, but, after Gaudry entered the army, had
lost sight of each other. Gaudry served through the Italian war of 1859,
gaining a medal for valour. In 1864 he had married.

Eleven years later his wife died, leaving him with two children. He came
to Paris and obtained employment in an oil refinery at Saint Denis. His
character was excellent; he was a good workman, honest, hard-working,
his record unblemished. When he returned to Paris, Gaudry renewed his
friendship with the companion of his youth. But Jeanne Brecourt was now
Jeanne de la Cour, living in refinement and some luxury, moving in a
sphere altogether remote from and unapproachable by the humble workman
in an oil refinery. He could do no more than worship from afar
this strange being, to him wonderfully seductive in her charm and
distinction.

On her side the widow was quite friendly toward her homely admirer.
She refused to marry him, as he would have wished, but she did her best
without success to marry him to others of her acquaintance. Neither a
sempstress nor an inferior actress could she persuade, for all her
zeal, to unite themselves with a hand in an oil mill, a widower with two
children. It is typical of the widow's nervous energy that she should
have undertaken so hopeless a task. In the mean