the easiest of easy-chairs, knelt
beside him, and chafed his numbed hands in hers; and as her bright eyes
fixed tenderly on his, she looked so young and so innocent! You would
not then have called her the "Ondine of Paris."

But when, a little while after, revived by the genial warmth and moved
by the charm of her beauty, Gustave passed his arm round her neck and
sought to draw her on his lap, she slid from his embrace, shaking
her head gently, and seated herself, with a pretty air of ceremonious
decorum, at a little distance.

Gustave looked at her amazed.

"Causons," said she, gravely, "thou wouldst know why I am so well
dressed, so comfortably lodged, and I am longing to explain to thee all.
Some days ago I had just finished my performance at the cafe--, and was
putting on my shawl, when a tall Monsieur, fort bel homme, with the
air of a grand seigneur, entered the cafe, and approaching me politely,
said, 'I think I have the honour to address Mademoiselle Julie
Caumartin?' 'That is my name,' I said, surprised; and, looking at him
more intently, I recognised his face. He had come into the cafe a few
days before with thine old acquaintance Frederic Lemercier, and stood
by when I asked Frederic to give me news of thee. 'Mademoiselle,' he
continued, with a serious melancholy smile, 'I shall startle you when I
say that I am appointed to act as your guardian by the last request of
your mother.' 'Of Madame Surville?' 'Madame Surville adopted you, but
was not your mother. We cannot talk at ease here. Allow me to request
that you will accompany me to Monsieur -----, the avoue. It is not
very far from this--and by the way--I will tell you some news that may
sadden, and some news that may rejoice.'

"There was an earnestness in the voice and look of this Monsieur that
impressed me. He did not offer me his arm; but I walked by his side in
the direction he chose. As we walked he told me in very few words that
my mother had been separated from her husband, and for certain family
reasons had found it so difficult to rear and provide for me herself,
that she had accepted the offer of Madame Surville to adopt me as her
own child. While he spoke, there came dimly back to me the remembrance
of a lady who had taken me from my first home, when I had been, as
I understood, at nurse, and left me with poor dear Madame Surville,
saying, 'This is henceforth your mamma.'

"I never again saw that lady. It seems that many years afterwards m