r workwoman
her little boy, she also envied her that old man smoking his pipe
yonder, that infirm relic of labor who at all events saw clearly and
still lived.

"Don't worry the lady," said Norine to her son; for she felt anxious,
quite moved indeed, at seeing the other so disturbed, with her heart so
full. "Run away and play."

She had learnt a little of Madame Angelin's sad story from Mathieu.
And with the deep gratitude which she felt towards her benefactress
was blended a sort of impassioned respect, which rendered her timid and
deferent each time that she saw her arrive, tall and distinguished,
ever clad in black, and showing the remnants of her former beauty which
sorrow had wrecked already, though she was barely six-and-forty years
of age. For Norine, the lady-delegate was like some queen who had fallen
from her throne amid frightful and undeserved sufferings.

"Run away, go and play, my darling," Norine repeated to her boy: "you
are tiring madame."

"Tiring me, oh no!" exclaimed Madame Angelin, conquering her emotion.
"On the contrary, he does me good. Kiss me, kiss me again, my pretty
fellow."

Then she began to bestir and collect herself.

"Well, it is getting late, and I have so many places to go to between
now and this evening! This is what I can do for you."

She was at last taking a gold coin from her little bag, but at that very
moment a heavy blow, as if dealt by a fist, resounded on the door. And
Norine turned ghastly pale, for she had recognized Alexandre's brutal
knock. What could she do? If she did not open the door, the bandit would
go on knocking, and raise a scandal. She was obliged to open it, but
things did not take the violent tragical turn which she had feared.
Surprised at seeing a lady there, Alexandre did not even open his mouth.
He simply slipped inside, and stationed himself bolt upright against
the wall. The lady-delegate had raised her eyes and then carried them
elsewhere, understanding that this young fellow must be some friend,
probably some relative. And without thought of concealment, she went on:

"Here are twenty francs, I can't do more. Only I promise you that I will
try to double the amount next month. It will be the rent month, and I've
already applied for help on all sides, and people have promised to
give me the utmost they can. But shall I ever have enough? So many
applications are made to me."

Her little bag had remained open on her knees, and Alexandre, with hi