en in existence some fourteen or fifteen years.
Before that time, and from the period of the great Revolution
forward, there was absolutely no place, either refuge, asylum,
or workhouse, in the whole of that great city of wealth and
pleasure, where the houseless poor could crave a night's
shelter. The various royalist, imperialist and republican
governments and municipalities of modern France have often
been described as 'paternal,' but no governments and
municipalities in the whole civilised world have done less for
the very poor. The official Poor Relief Board--L'Assistance
Publique--has for fifty years been a by-word, a mockery and a
sham, in spite of its large revenue. And this neglect of the
very poor has been an important factor in every French
revolution. Each of these--even that of 1870--had its purely
economic side, though many superficial historians are content
to ascribe economic causes to the one Revolution of 1789, and
to pass them by in all other instances.--Trans.

In vain had Pierre and Abbe Rose passed all the poor wretches in review
while seeking the big Old'un, the former carpenter, so as to rescue him
from the cesspool of misery, and send him to the Asylum on the very
morrow. He had presented himself at the refuge that evening, but there
was no room left, for, horrible to say, even the shelter of that hell
could only be granted to early comers. And so he must now be leaning
against a wall, or lying behind some palings. This had greatly distressed
poor Abbe Rose and Pierre, but it was impossible for them to search every
dark, suspicious corner; and so the former had returned to the Rue
Cortot, while the latter was seeking a cab to convey him back to Neuilly.

The fine drizzling rain was still falling and becoming almost icy, when
Silviane's coachman, Jules, at last reappeared and interrupted the
priest, who was telling the Baron and the others how his visit to the
refuge still made him shudder.

"Well, Jules--and madame?" asked Duvillard, quite anxious at seeing the
coachman return alone.

Impassive and respectful, with no other sign of irony than a slight
involuntary twist of the lips, Jules answered: "Madame sends word that
she is not going home; and she places her carriage at the gentlemen's
disposal if they will allow me to drive them home."

This was the last straw, and the Baron flew into a passion. To have
allowed her to drag