astonished.

"Monsieur Jacquemin, the journalist?" asked Andras.

"Yes, yes, Monsieur," she answered with a proud little smile, which
Zilah was not slow to notice. She now opened the door wide, and said,
stepping aside to let the visitor pass:

"Will you take the trouble to come in, Monsieur?" She was not accustomed
to receive calls (Jacquemin always making his appointments at the
office); but, as the stranger might be some one who brought her husband
work, as she called it, she was anxious not to let him go away before
she knew what his errand was.

"Please come in, Monsieur!"

The Prince entered, and, crossing the entry in two steps, found himself
in a small dining-room opening directly out of the kitchen, where three
tiny little children were playing, the youngest, who could not have been
more than eighteen months, crawling about on the floor. Upon the ragged
oilcloth which covered the table, Zilah noticed two pairs of men's
gloves, one gray, the other yellow, and a heap of soiled white cravats.
Upon a wooden chair, by the open door of the kitchen, was a tub full of
shirts, which the young woman had doubtless been washing when the bell
rang.

The cries Zilah had heard came from the children, who were now silent,
staring at the tall gentleman, who looked at them in surprise.

The young woman was small and very pretty, but with the pallor of
fatigue and overwork; her lips were beautifully chiselled, but almost
colorless; and she was so thin that her figure had the frail appearance
of an unformed girl.

"Will you sit down, Monsieur?" she asked, timidly, advancing a
cane-bottomed chair.

Everything in these poor lodgings was of the most shabby description.
In a cracked mirror with a broken frame were stuck cards of invitation,
theatre checks, and race tickets admitting to the grand stand. Upon a
cheap little table with broken corners was a heap of New Year's cards,
bonbon boxes, and novels with soiled edges. Upon the floor, near the
children, were some remnants of toys; and the cradle in which the baby
slept at night was pushed into a corner with a child's chair, the arms
of which were gone.

Zilah was both astonished and pained. He had not expected to encounter
this wretched place, the poorly clad children, and the woman's timid
smile.

"Is Monsieur Jacquemin at home?" he asked abruptly, desiring to leave at
once if the man whom he sought was not there.

"No, Monsieur; but he will not be long away. Sit