Ambroisine? My mother was away; all day long I could see him from the windows looking on the street. At night I was imprudent enough to go there still and look. And one night—I don't know how he did it—I found him there, before me, then at my feet, swearing that he would always love me; and I had not the courage to send him away."

"The harm is done and cannot be undone. Well?"

"Two months passed—oh, so quickly! My mother was still absent, and I saw Léodgard almost every night. How many times during those two months, when you came to see me, I was tempted to make you the confidante of my love and my sin! It was painful to me to have a secret from you, but he had enjoined upon me the strictest secrecy, he had made me promise that I would tell you nothing, and I did not want to disobey him.—At last, about a month ago, I learned that my mother was coming home. My blood ran cold with fear, and I begged Léodgard to delay no longer asking my parents for my hand. He promised to do it; but I have not seen him since that day! It is true that I ceased to be free of my movements in the house. My mother had returned; she watched me, kept me in sight, as before. For the last two days it seemed to me that she was harsher than ever with me; her face was dark; when her eyes met mine, I could not sustain them; I felt that I turned pale and trembled. More than once I was on the point of falling at her feet and confessing all. But I waited, I still hoped. I said to myself: 'To-day, perhaps, he who made me a guilty woman will come to ask my parents for my hand. And as the reparation will follow the confession of my sin, they will not refuse to forgive us.'"

"Yes," said Ambroisine, with a sigh; "but your seducer did not keep his promise!"

"Oh! he will keep it, Ambroisine; I refuse to doubt it. If he had known, if I had dared to tell him, that I was a mother, I am sure that he would have come before this to dry my tears! But I had not dared to make that confession to him before my mother's return parted us so abruptly."

"Ah! he does not know—— But finish your story, I beg you!"

"Mon Dieu! I have nothing left to tell but what took place at our house this evening. I was working with my mother, in a room away from the street. We were perfectly silent; but from time to time I saw that my mother's eyes were fixed on my person. I trembled lest she should discover what I still tried to conceal. But suddenly my father entered the room; and he, usually so kind and gentle, also had a lowering, troubled expression. He came to me and held out a white plume, which I recognized as one I had seen on Léodgard's hat.

"'Here,' he said, 'here is something that a lover of yours sends you! But the fellow will not be tempted to try it again, I fancy; for I treated him in a way to take away any such desire.'

"I was pale and speechless, for it seemed to me that nobody but Léodgard could have brought that plume.

"But my mother instantly cried:

"'A lover! so it's true that she has a lover, is it? My suspicions are well founded!—Ah! you wretched, shameless girl!'

"I fell on my knees, stammering: 'Pardon! pardon! yes, I am guilty; but he will marry me! he has sworn it, and he will keep his oath!'

"When they heard an avowal which doubtless they were far from expecting, my father hid his face in his hands. But my mother—oh! her wrath was terrible! She strode toward me to strike me, but I think that my father caught her arm. She heaped insults upon me, and questioned me. I was so terrified that I could not speak.

"'But,' she cried, 'that villain—her seducer—who is he? Did you see him, Landry?'

"'I don't understand it,' said my father; 'it was a wretched little solicitor's clerk—horribly ugly and a perfect idiot—who ran away when I thrashed him!'

"I knew then, of course, that Léodgard had not brought the white plume, and I faltered:

"'It is not he, father; no, I don't know the man you saw.'

"'But, in that case, who is your seducer? Tell me his name—his name, instantly, that I may go and wash away in his blood the affront put upon my honor!'

"My father's eyes were threatening; he meant to kill my lover; so I refused to name him.

"'Very well!' said my mother; 'go and join the man for whom you have forgotten your duty; the man who has brought shame into our house; go—you can live with us no longer; you are no longer worthy to live under our roof; we turn you out. Begone!'

"In the hope of moving her, I told her then that I bore within me a helpless creature, innocent of my sin! But, far from appeasing her anger, it seemed to redouble when she heard that. She called me a—— But what need is there for me to tell you more? You saw me in the street, when the storm, increasing in violence to crush me, seemed to say to me that the wrath of God had joined forces with my mother's to punish the girl who had forfeited her honor, who had brought a blush to her father's brow!"

Bathilde's eyes filled with fresh tears as she finished her story.

Ambroisine allowed her grief to vent itself; there are times when words of consolation buzz in our ears without reaching the heart.

At last Bathilde took her friend's hand and pressed it, saying:

"Forgive me for causing you so much distress. But your father—if he learns that you have taken in the child whom her parents have cursed, perhaps he too will turn me out of doors. I will remain hidden in your chamber, Ambroisine; I will not stir from it. You will not tell your father that I am here; for where should I go, if he too should turn me away?—With no roof to shelter me, I should die of grief and want. And I do not want to die, because there is a little being to whom I must give life."

"Calm your fears, my poor darling! I shall tell my father all, for I should not like to have any secrets from him; but I am not at all alarmed; he is soft-hearted, is my father; although he shouts and storms, he has a kind heart; and, far from blaming me for taking you in, he will approve of it, he will say that I did quite right; and then he will go to see your parents and plead for you; for it is not possible that they do not regret having turned you away."

"You do not know my mother, Ambroisine; she never recedes from her resolutions; and my father is so exacting with respect to honor! he had such perfect confidence in his daughter! Believe me, your father would take an absolutely useless step; but there is someone whom I would like much to see; someone whom I must inform of my condition, my present plight; for then he will be able—at least, I hope so—to allay the anger of my parents by telling them that he means to repair his wrongdoing—and to console me a little for all my suffering by telling me that he still loves me. That someone—you know who it is, do you not, Ambroisine? Well, you can easily find his home—the Hôtel de Marvejols is on Place Royale.—You are so kind, Ambroisine, that I know that you will go to see him, and tell him all that has happened, and give him a letter which I will write to him, begging him to put an end to our misery, and telling him also that—that there is another person to whom he owes aid and protection.—You will see Léodgard, will you not?—Ah! if he knew that I had been cursed by my mother, he would have come here ere this to comfort me."

"I will do whatever you wish, my poor love!" Ambroisine replied, forcing back a sigh. "But, sleep a little, take a little rest; remember that you need it, and that you must be careful of your health."

Bathilde made no reply, but closed her eyes. Fatigue brings sleep at last, as time always brings forgetfulness. Which proves that in us mortals the mind is always vanquished by the body.

XXX

GOOD FRIENDS

On waking the next morning, Master Hugonnet remembered nothing of his debauch except