t fair she should do so? I have been so lucky in falling
in with a nice gentleman. May Heaven bless him!"

With this outburst she dropped two large lumps of sugar into her wine.
She was now getting more corpulent than ever, and her little eyes had
almost vanished from her fat face. She moved slowly with a beatifical
expression of felicity. Her life's ambition was now evidently
satisfied. For this she had been born. When she put her sugar away
again Helene caught a glimpse of some tid-bits secreted at the bottom
of a cupboard--a jar of preserves, a bag of biscuits, and even some
cigars, all doubtless pilfered from the gentleman lodger.

"Well, good-bye, Mother Fetu, I'm going away," she exclaimed.

The old lady, however, pushed the saucepan to one side of the stove
and murmured: "Wait a minute; this is far too hot, I'll drink it
by-and-by. No, no; don't go out that way. I must beg pardon for
having received you in the kitchen. Let us go round the rooms."

She caught up the lamp, and turned into a narrow passage. Helene, with
beating heart, followed close behind. The passage, dilapidated and
smoky, was reeking with damp. Then a door was thrown open, and she
found herself treading a thick carpet. Mother Fetu had already
advanced into a room which was plunged in darkness and silence.

"Well?" she asked, as she lifted up the lamp; "it's very nice, isn't
it?"

There were two rooms, each of them square, communicating with one
another by folding-doors, which had been removed, and replaced by
curtains. Both were hung with pink cretonne of a Louis Quinze pattern,
picturing chubby-checked cupids disporting themselves amongst garlands
of flowers. In the first apartment there was a round table, two
lounges, and some easy-chairs; and in the second, which was somewhat
smaller, most of the space was occupied by the bed. Mother Fetu drew
attention to a crystal lamp with gilt chains, which hung from the
ceiling. To her this lamp was the veritable acme of luxury.

Then she began explaining things: "You can't imagine what a funny
fellow he is! He lights it up in mid-day, and stays here, smoking a
cigar and gazing into vacancy. But it amuses him, it seems. Well, it
doesn't matter; I've an idea he must have spent a lot of money in his
time."

Helene went through the rooms in silence. They seemed to her in bad
taste. There was too much pink everywhere; the furniture also looked
far too new.

"He calls himself Monsieur Vincent," con