ke upon you?"

"Oh, you know well enough what you do, though you look as if you were
too delicate to be touched."

"What bad design can you suppose me capable of?"

"How can I tell? It is because I do not understand anything of all this
that I mistrust you. Another thing, too: until now I have always been
merry or passionate, and never thoughtful, but you--you have made me
thoughtful. Yes, there are words which you utter, that, in spite of
myself, have shaken my very heart, and made me think of all sorts of sad
things."

"I am sorry, La Louve, if I ever made you sad; but I do not remember
ever having said anything--"

"Oh," cried La Louve, interrupting her companion with angry impatience,
"what you do is sometimes as affecting as what you say! You are so
clever!"

"Do not be angry, La Louve, but explain what you mean."

"Yesterday, in the workroom, I noticed you,--you bent your head over the
work you were sewing, and a large tear fell on your hand. You looked at
it for a minute, and then you lifted your hand to your lips, as if to
kiss and wipe it away. Is this true?"

"Yes," said La Goualeuse, blushing.

"There was nothing in this; but at the moment you looked so unhappy, so
very miserable, that I felt my very heart turned, as it were, inside
out. Tell me, do you find this amusing? Why, now, I have been as hard as
flint on all occasions. No one ever saw me shed a tear,--and yet, only
looking at your chit face, I felt my heart sink basely within me! Yes,
for this is baseness,--pure cowardice; and the proof is, that for three
days I have not dared to write to Martial, my lover, my conscience is so
bad. Yes, being with you has enfeebled my mind, and this must be put an
end to,--there's enough of it; this will else do me mischief, I am sure.
I wish to remain as I am, and not become a joke and despised thing to
myself."

"You are angry with me, La Louve?"

"Yes, you are a bad acquaintance for me; and if it continues, why, in a
fortnight's time, instead of calling me the She-wolf, they would call me
the Ewe! But no, thank ye, it sha'n't come to that yet,--Martial would
kill me; and so, to make an end of this matter, I will break up all
acquaintance with you; and that I may be quite separated from you, I
shall ask to be put in another room. If they refuse me, I will do some
piece of mischief to put me in wind again, and that I may be sent to the
black-hole for the remainder of my time here. And this was what I h