wretched by daylight than
last night, she said,--

"No, they will never think of looking for me here!"

In the meantime she had discovered a small supply of wood near the
fireplace; and, as it was cold, she was busy making a fire, when
somebody knocked at her door. She opened; and Mrs. Chevassat, the wife
of the concierge appeared.

"It is I, my pretty young lady," she said as she entered. "Not seeing
you come down, I said to myself, 'I must go up to look after her.' And
have you slept well?"

"Very well, madam, thank you!"

"Now, that's right. And how is your appetite? For that was what I came
up for. Don't you think you might eat a little something?"

Henrietta not only thought of it; but she was very hungry. For there
are no events and no adventures, no excitements and no sorrows, which
prevent us from getting hungry; the tyranny of our physical wants is
stronger than any thing else.

"I would be obliged to you, madam," she said, "if you would bring me up
some breakfast."

"If I would! As often as you desire, my pretty young lady. Just give me
the time to boil an egg, and to roast a cutlet, and I'll be up again."

Ordinarily sour-tempered, and as bitter as wormwood, Mrs. Chevassat had
displayed all the amiability of which she was capable, hiding under
a veil of tender sympathy the annoying eagerness of her eyes. Her
hypocrisy was all wasted. The efforts she made were too manifest not to
arouse the very worst suspicions.

"I am sure," thought Henrietta, "she is a bad woman."

Her suspicions were only increased when the worthy woman reappeared,
bringing her breakfast, and setting it out on a little table before the
fire, with all kinds of hideous compliments.

"You'll see how very well every thing is cooked, miss," she said.

Then, while Henrietta was eating, she sat down on a chair near the
door, and commenced talking, without ever stopping. To hear her, the
new tenant ought to thank her guardian angel who had brought her to this
charming house, No. 23 Water Street, where there was such a concierge
with such a wife!--he, the best of men; she, a real treasure of
kindness, gentleness, and, above all, discretion.

"Quite an exceptional house," she added, "as far as the tenants are
concerned. They are all people of notoriously high standing, from the
wealthy old ladies in the best story to Papa Ravinet in the fourth
story, and not excepting the young ladies who live in the small rooms in
the back buildi