was no end of questions.

"Who are you? Where have you been? By whom have you been employed?" and
finally, always the same distressing answer,--

"We cannot employ persons like you."

Then she went to an employment agency. She had noticed one which
displayed at the door a huge placard, on which places were offered from
thirty-five up to a thousand francs a month. She went up stairs. A very
loquacious gentleman made her first deposit a considerable sum, and then
told her he had exactly what she wanted. She went ten times back to the
office, and always in vain. After an eleventh appointment, he gave her
the address of two houses, in one of which he assured her she would
certainly be employed. These two houses turned out to be two small
shops, where pretty young ladies were wanted to pour out absinthe, and
to wait upon the customers.

This was Henrietta's last effort. For ten months she had now been
struggling with a kind of helpless fury against inconquerable
difficulties, and at last the springs of her energy had lost their
elasticity. Now, crushed in body and mind, overwhelmed and conquered,
she gave up.

It lacked still eighteen months before she would become of age. Since
she had escaped from her father's house, she had not received a line
from Daniel, although she had constantly written to him, and she had, of
course, no means of ascertaining the date of his return. She had once,
following M. de Brevan's advice, summoned courage enough to go to the
navy department, and there to inquire if they had any news about "The
Conquest." A clerk had replied to her, with a joke, that "The Conquest"
might be afloat yet "a year or two." How could the poor girl wait till
then? Why should she any longer maintain the useless struggle? She felt
acute pains in her chest; she coughed; and, after walking a few yards,
her legs gave way under her, and she broke out in cold perspiration.
She now spent her days almost always in bed, shivering with chills,
or plunged in a kind of stupor, during which her mind was filled with
dismal visions. She felt as if the very sources of life were drying up
within her, and as if all her blood was, drop by drop, oozing out of her
through an open wound.

"If I could die thus!" she thought.

This was the last favor she asked of God. Henceforth, a miracle
alone could save her; and she hardly wished to be saved. A perfect
indifference and intense distaste of every thing filled her soul. She
thought s