e.

"Well, my good lady," cried Madame Pipelet, going out of her lodge to
address her, as she descended the last stair, "how did you find the poor
creatures,--I mean the Morels? Ah, I doubt not, such a sight made your
heart ache? God knows your charity was well bestowed! I told you the
other day, when you called to inquire about them, what a state of
starvation and misery they were in. Be assured, kind lady, these poor
things are fit objects of your bounty; you will never have to regret
coming to this out-of-the-way place to examine into their case. They
really are deserving all your kindness,--don't you think so, Alfred?"

Alfred, the strictness of whose ideas touching a due regard for all
conjugal duties made him revolt at the thoughts of helping to deceive a
husband, replied only by a sort of grumbling sound, as vague as
discordant.

"Please to excuse my husband, madame," resumed Madame Pipelet; "he has
got the cramp in his stomach, and cannot speak loud enough to be
understood, or he would tell you as well as myself that the poor people
you have so fortunately relieved will pray of the Almighty, night and
day, to bless and reward you, my worthy lady."

M. d'Harville gazed on his wife with feelings approaching to adoration,
as he exclaimed, "Angel of goodness, how has base slander dared to
disturb your heavenly work!"

"An angel!" repeated Madame Pipelet; "that she is, and one of the very
best heaven could send. There is not a better."

"Let us return home, I entreat!" said Madame d'Harville, who was
suffering acutely under the restraint she had put upon herself since
entering the house, and, now that the necessity for exertion was over,
found her strength rapidly forsaking her.

"Instantly," replied the marquis.

At the instant of their emerging into the open air from the obscurity of
the alley, M. d'Harville, observing the pale looks of his wife, said,
tenderly:

"Ah, Clemence, I have deep cause to solicit your pity and forgiveness."

"Alas! my lord," said the marquise, sighing deeply, "which of us has not
need of pardon?"

Rodolph quitted his hiding-place, deeply ruminating upon so terrible a
scene, thus intermingled with absurdity and coarseness, and pondering
over the curious termination to a drama, the commencement of which had
called forth such different passions.

"Well, now," exclaimed Madame Pipelet, "you must say I played my part
well. Didn't I send that donkey of a husband home with longer