and gratitude the mysterious associations you
propose, my lord," said Clemence; "and, by way of beginning our romance,
I will return to-morrow to visit those poor creatures to whom,
unfortunately, this morning I could only utter a few words of
consolation; for, taking advantage of my terror and alarm, the purse you
so thoughtfully supplied me with was stolen from me by a lame boy as I
ascended the stairs. Ah, my lord," added Clemence (and her countenance
lost the expression of gentle gaiety by which a few minutes before it
was animated), "if you only knew what misery, what a picture of
wretchedness--no! oh, no! I never could have believed so horrid a scene,
or that such want existed; and yet I bewail my condition and complain of
my severe destiny."

Rodolph, wishing to conceal from Madame d'Harville how deeply he was
touched at this application of the woes of others, as teaching patience
and resignation, yet fully recognising in the meek and subdued spirit
the fine and noble qualities of her mind, said, gaily:

"With your permission, I shall except the Morels from your jurisdiction;
you shall resign them to my care, and, above all things, promise me not
again to enter that miserable place, for, to tell you the truth, I live
there."

"You, my lord? What an idea!"

"Nay, but you really must believe me when I say I live there, for it is
actually true. I confess mine is somewhat a humble lodging, a mere
matter of eight pounds a year, in addition to which I pay the large and
liberal sum of six francs a month to the porteress, Madame Pipelet, that
ugly old woman you saw; but, to make up for all this, I have as my next
neighbour, Mlle. Rigolette, the prettiest grisette in the Quartier du
Temple. And you must allow that, for a merchant's clerk, with a salary
of only seventy-two pounds a year (I pass as a clerk), such a domicile
is well suited to my means."

"Your unhoped-for presence in that fatal house proves to me that you are
speaking seriously, my lord; some generous action leads you there, no
doubt! But what good action do you reserve for me? What part do you
propose for me to sustain?"

"That of an angel of consolation, and--pray excuse and allow me the
word--a very demon of cunning and manoeuvres! For there are some
wounds so painful, as well as delicate, that the hand of a woman only
can watch over and heal them. There are, also, unfortunate beings so
proud, so reserved, and so hidden from observation, that it re