“Indeed!” remarked Mother Bunch, “there is certainly some connection between his hiding-place here and the important secrets which he wishes to communicate to your mistress, or one of her family.”

“The hiding-place had neither been inhabited nor visited for some time,” said Florine, with a thoughtful air; “M.  Agricola may have found therein something of interest to my mistress.”

“If his letter had not appeared to me so pressing,” resumed the other, “I should not have come hither; but have left him to do so himself, on his release from prison, which now, thanks to the generosity of one of his old fellow-workmen, cannot be very distant.  But, not knowing if bail would be accepted to-day, I have wished faithfully to perform his instructions.  The generous kindness of your mistress made it my first duty.”

Like all persons whose better instincts are still roused from time to time, Florine felt a sort of consolation in doing good whenever she could with impunity—­that is to say, without exposing herself to the inexorable resentments of those on whom she depended.  Thanks to Mother Bunch, she might now have an opportunity of rendering a great service to her mistress.  She knew enough of the Princess de Saint-Dizier’s hatred of her niece, to feel certain that Agricola’s communication could not, from its very importance, be made with safety to any but Mdlle. de Cardoville herself.  She therefore said very gravely:  “Listen to me, mademoiselle!  I will give you a piece of advice which will, I think, be useful to my poor mistress—­but which would be very fatal to me if you did not attend to my recommendations.”

“How so, mademoiselle?” said the hunchback, looking at Florine with extreme surprise.

“For the sake of my mistress, M. Agricola must confide to no one, except herself, the important things he has to communicate.”

“But, if he cannot see Mdlle.  Adrienne, may he not address himself to some of her family?”

“It is from her family, above all, that he must conceal whatever he knows.  Mdlle.  Adrienne may recover, and then M. Agricola can speak to her.  But should she never get well again, tell your adopted brother that it is better for him to keep his secret than to place it (which would infallibly happen) at the disposal of the enemies of my mistress.”

“I understand you, mademoiselle,” said Mother Bunch, sadly.  “The family of your generous mistress do not love her, and perhaps persecute her?”

“I cannot tell you more on this subject now; and, as regards myself, let me conjure you to obtain M. Agricola’s promise that he will not mention to any one in the world the step you have taken, or the advice I have given you.  The happiness—­no, not the happiness,” resumed Florine bitterly, as if that were a lost hope, “not the happiness—­but the peace of my life depends upon your discretion.”

“Oh! be satisfied!” said the sewing-girl, both affected and amazed by the sorrowful expression of Florine’s countenance; “I will not be ungrateful.  No one in the world but Agricola shall know that I have seen you.”