arents, don't you? Well, I thought of renting a room and of taking my
sister and her little boy with me. I would show Norine how to cut out
and paste up those little boxes, and we might live, all three, happily
together."

"And won't she consent?" asked Mathieu.

"Oh! she told me that I was mad; and there's some truth in that, for
I have no money even to rent a room. Ah! if you only knew how it
distresses me."

Mathieu concealed his emotion, and resumed in his quiet way: "Well,
there are rooms to be rented. And you would find a friend to help you.
Only I am much afraid that you will never persuade your sister to keep
her child, for I fancy that I know her ideas on that subject. A miracle
would be needed to change them."

Quick-witted as she was, Cecile darted a glance at him. The friend he
spoke of was himself. Good heavens would her dream come true? She ended
by bravely saying: "Listen, monsieur; you are so kind that you really
ought to do me a last favor. It would be to come with me and see Norine
at once. You alone can talk to her and prevail on her perhaps. But let
us walk slowly, for I am stifling, I feel so happy."

Mathieu, deeply touched, walked on beside her. They turned the corner of
the Rue de Miromesnil, and his own heart began to beat as they climbed
the stairs of Madame Bourdieu's establishment. Ten years ago! Was it
possible? He recalled everything that he had seen and heard in that
house. And it all seemed to date from yesterday, for the building
had not changed; indeed, he fancied that he could recognize the very
grease-spots on the doors on the various landings.

Following Cecile to Norine's room, he found Norine up and dressed, but
seated at the side of her bed and nursing her babe.

"What! is it you, monsieur?" she exclaimed, as soon as she recognized
her visitor. "It is very kind of Cecile to have brought you. Ah! _mon
Dieu_ what a lot of things have happened since I last saw you! We are
none of us any the younger."

He scrutinized her, and she did indeed seem to him much aged. She was
one of those blondes who fade rapidly after their thirtieth year. Still,
if her face had become pasty and wore a weary expression, she remained
pleasant-looking, and seemed as heedless, as careless as ever.

Cecile wished to bring matters to the point at once. "Here is your
chocolate," she began. "I met Monsieur Froment in the street, and he is
so kind and takes so much interest in me that he is willing to h