a strong, square-built peasant of about forty or
forty-five, with a red face and hair that was turning gray. Jeanne was
sure she had seen her before, but she had not the least idea whether it
was a long time ago or quite recently, and it worried her to find she
could not remember. She softly got out of bed, and went on tiptoe to see
the sleeping woman nearer. She recognized her as the peasant who had
caught her in her arms in the cemetery, and had afterwards put her to
bed; but surely she had known her in former times, under other
circumstances. And yet perhaps the face was only familiar to her because
she had seen it that day in the cemetery. Still how was it that the
woman was sleeping here?

Just then the stranger opened her eyes and saw Jeanne standing beside
her. She started up, and they stood face to face, so close together that
they touched each other.

"How is it that you're out of bed?" said the peasant; "you'll make
yourself ill, getting up at this time of night. Go back to bed again."

"Who are you?" asked Jeanne.

The woman made no answer, but picked Jeanne up and carried her back to
bed as easily as if she had been a baby. She gently laid her down, and,
as she bent over her, she suddenly began to cover her cheeks, her hair,
her eyes with violent kisses, while the tears streamed from her eyes.

"My poor mistress! Mam'zelle Jeanne, my poor mistress! Don't you know
me?" she sobbed.

"Rosalie, my lass!" cried Jeanne, throwing her arms round the woman's
neck and kissing her; and, clasped in each other's arms they mingled
their tears and sobs together.

Rosalie dried her eyes the first. "Come now," she said, "you must be
good and not catch cold."

She picked up the clothes, tucked up the bed and put the pillow back
under the head of her former mistress, who lay choking with emotion as
the memories of days that were past and gone rushed back to her mind.

"How is it you have come back, my poor girl?" she asked.

"Do you think I was going to leave you to live all alone now?" answered
Rosalie.

"Light a candle and let me look at you," went on Jeanne.

Rosalie placed a light on the table by the bedside, and for a long time
they gazed at each other in silence.

"I should never have known you again," murmured Jeanne, holding out her
hand to her old servant. "You have altered very much, though not so much
as I have."

"Yes, you have changed, Madame Jeanne, and more than you ought to have
done," answere