at a rich tradesman's in my
country, and had always been prudent; but the master's son whispered his
tales in my ear, and then--When I found in what a state I was, I dared
not remain any longer in the country, and M. Jules gave me fifty francs
to take me to Paris, assuring me that he would send me twenty francs
every month for my lying-in; but since I left I have not had one sou,
not even a message. I wrote to him once, but he sent me no answer; and I
was afraid to write again, as I saw he did not wish to hear any more of
me."

"At least he ought not to have forgotten you, if it was only for the
sake of the child!"

"That was the reason; he was angry with me for being in the family way,
because it embarrassed him. I regret my child for myself, but not on its
own account, poor little darling! It must have been miserable, and have
been an orphan very early, for I have not long to live."

"Oh, you ought not to have such ideas at your age. Have you been long
ill?"

"Nearly three months. Why, when I had to work for myself and my child, I
began too soon. The winter was very cold; I was attacked with a cold on
my chest. I lost my child at this time, too; and nursing her, I
neglected myself, and then my sorrow; so that I fell into a
consumption--decided--like the actress who has just died."

"There's always hope at your age!"

"The actress was only two years older than I am."

"What, was she an actress who is just dead?"

"Yes. And see what fate is! She had been as beautiful as daylight, and
had money, carriages, diamonds; but, unfortunately, the smallpox
disfigured her, and then came want and misery, and, at last, death in a
hospital. No one ever came to see her; and yet, four or five days ago,
she told me, she had written to a gentleman whom she had formerly known
in her gay days, and who had been much in love with her. She wrote to
him to beg him to claim her dead body, because she was wretched at the
idea of thinking she would be dissected--cut in pieces."

"And did the gentleman come?"

"No. Every moment she was asking for him and perpetually saying, 'Oh,
he'll come! Oh, he'll be sure to come!' And yet she died without any one
coming, and what she so much dreaded will befall her poor frame. After
having been rich and happy, to die so is very terrible! We, at least,
only change our miseries!"

"I wish," said Lorraine, after a moment's hesitation, "I wish you would
render me a service!"

"What is it?"

"If