of the poor dying girl. In our beautiful
egotistical days, many a man, in the place of this old man, would not
have gone out of his way. He, on the contrary, hurried down to inform
the concierge. Many a man, again, would have been quieted by the
apparent calmness of the Chevassat couple, and would have been satisfied
with their assurance that Henrietta was not at home. He, however,
insisted, and, in spite of the evident reluctance of the concierge and
his wife, compelled them to go up, and brought out, by his words first,
and then by his example, one tenant after another.

It was he likewise, who, while the concierge and the other people were
deliberating, directed what was to be done for the dying girl, and who
hastened to fetch from his magazine a mattress, sheets, blankets,
wood to make a fire, in fact, every thing that was needed in that bare
chamber.

A few moments later Henrietta opened her eyes. Her first sensation was a
very strange one.

In the first place she was utterly amazed at feeling that she was in a
warm bed,--she who had, for so many days, endured all the tortures of
bitter cold. Then, looking around, she was dazzled by the candles
that were burning on her table, and the beautiful, bright fire in her
fireplace. And then she looked with perfect stupor at all the women whom
she did not know, and who were bending over her, watching her movements.

Had her father at last come to her assistance?

No, for he would have been there; and she looked in vain for him among
all these strange people.

Then, understanding from some words which were spoken close by her, that
it was to chance alone she owed her rescue from death, she was filled
with indescribable grief.

"To have suffered all that can be suffered in dying," she said to
herself, "and then not to die after all!"

She almost had a feeling of hatred against all these people who were
busying themselves around her. Now that they had brought her back to
life, would they enable her to live?

Nevertheless, she distinguished very clearly what was going on in her
room. She recognized the wealthy ladies from the first story, who had
stayed to nurse her, and between them Mrs. Chevassat, who assumed an
air of great activity, while she explained to them how Henrietta had
deceived her affectionate heart in order to carry out her fatal purpose.

"You see, I did not dream of any thing," she protested in a whining
tone. "A poor little pussy-cat, who was alwa