ight to the attic she had so often visited at the
top of the large house abutting on the Passage. But nothing stirred,
although she rapped loudly. In considerable perplexity she descended
the stairs again. Mother Fetu was doubtless in the rooms on the first
floor, where, however, Helene dared not show herself. She remained
five minutes in the entry, which was lighted by a petroleum lamp. Then
again she ascended the stairs hesitatingly, gazing at each door, and
was on the point of going away, when the old woman leaned over the
balusters.

"What! it's you on the stairs, my good lady!" she exclaimed. "Come in,
and don't catch cold out there. Oh! it is a vile place--enough to kill
one."

"No, thank you," said Helene; "I've brought you your pair of shoes,
Mother Fetu."

She looked at the door which Mother Fetu had left open behind her, and
caught a glimpse of a stove within.

"I'm all alone, I assure you," declared the old woman. "Come in. This
is the kitchen here. Oh! you're not proud with us poor folks; we can
talk to you!"

Despite the repugnance which shame at the purpose of her coming
created within her, Helene followed her.

"God in Heaven! how can I thank you! Oh, what lovely shoes! Wait, and
I'll put them on. There's my whole foot in; it fits me like a glove.
Bless the day! I can walk with these without being afraid of the rain.
Oh! my good lady, you are my preserver; you've given me ten more years
of life. No, no, it's no flattery; it's what I think, as true as
there's a lamp shining on us. No, no, I don't flatter!"

She melted into tears as she spoke, and grasping Helene's hands kissed
them. In a stewpan on the stove some wine was being heated, and on the
table, near the lamp, stood a half-empty bottle of Bordeaux with its
tapering neck. The only other things placed there were four dishes, a
glass, two saucepans, and an earthenware pot. It could be seen that
Mother Fetu camped in this bachelor's kitchen, and that the fires were
lit for herself only. Seeing Helene's glance turn towards the stewpan,
she coughed, and once more put on her dolorous expression.

"It's gripping me again," she groaned. "Oh! it's useless for the
doctor to talk; I must have some creature in my inside. And then, a
drop of wine relieves me so. I'm greatly afflicted, my good lady. I
wouldn't have a soul suffer from my trouble; it's too dreadful. Well,
I'm nursing myself a bit now; and when a person has passed through so
much, isn't i