with
that Brazilian?--I do not trust him at all."

"You are very right, Reine, and I mean to be rid of him."

"Oh, madame, I am glad to hear it; he frightens me, does that big Moor!
I believe him to be capable of anything."

"Silly child! you have more reason to be afraid for him when he is with
me."

At this moment Lisbeth came in.

"My dear little pet Nanny, what an age since we met!" cried Valerie.
"I am so unhappy! Crevel bores me to death; and Wenceslas is gone--we
quarreled."

"I know," said Lisbeth, "and that is what brings me here. Victorin
met him at about five in the afternoon going into an eating-house at
five-and-twenty sous, and he brought him home, hungry, by working on his
feelings, to the Rue Louis-le-Grand.--Hortense, seeing Wenceslas lean
and ill and badly dressed, held out her hand. This is how you throw me
over--"

"Monsieur Henri, madame," the man-servant announced in a low voice to
Valerie.

"Leave me now, Lisbeth; I will explain it all to-morrow." But, as will
be seen, Valerie was ere long not in a state to explain anything to
anybody.

Towards the end of May, Baron Hulot's pension was released by Victorin's
regular payment to Baron Nucingen. As everybody knows, pensions are
paid half-yearly, and only on the presentation of a certificate that the
recipient is alive: and as Hulot's residence was unknown, the arrears
unpaid on Vauvinet's demand remained to his credit in the Treasury.
Vauvinet now signed his renunciation of any further claims, and it was
still indispensable to find the pensioner before the arrears could be
drawn.

Thanks to Bianchon's care, the Baroness had recovered her health; and
to this Josepha's good heart had contributed by a letter, of which the
orthography betrayed the collaboration of the Duc d'Herouville. This
was what the singer wrote to the Baroness, after twenty days of anxious
search:--

"MADAME LA BARONNE,--Monsieur Hulot was living, two months since,
in the Rue des Bernardins, with Elodie Chardin, a lace-mender, for
whom he had left Mademoiselle Bijou; but he went away without a
word, leaving everything behind him, and no one knows where he
went. I am not without hope, however, and I have put a man on this
track who believes he has already seen him in the Boulevard
Bourdon.

"The poor Jewess means to keep the promise she made to the
Christian. Will the angel pray for the devil? That must sometimes
happen in heaven.--I remain,