“If that be all,” said Florine, hastily, “they will find you the means of dressing yourself properly.”

Mother Bunch looked at Florine with increasing surprise.  These offers were so much above what she could have hoped, and what indeed was generally earned by needlewomen, that she could hardly credit them.

“But,” resumed she, with hesitation, “why should any one be so generous to me, mademoiselle?  How should I deserve such high wages?”

Florine started.  A natural impulse of the heart, a desire to be useful to the sempstress, whose mildness and resignation greatly interested her, had led her to make a hasty proposition; she knew at what price would have to be purchased the advantages she proposed, and she now asked herself, if the hunchback would ever accept them on such terms.  But Florine had gone too far to recede, and she durst not tell all.  She resolved, therefore, to leave the future to chance and as those, who have themselves fallen, are little disposed to believe in the infallibility of others, Florine said to herself, that perhaps in the desperate position in which she was, Mother Bunch would not be so scrupulous after all.  Therefore she said:  “I see, mademoiselle, that you are astonished at offers so much above what you usually gain; but I must tell you, that I am now speaking of a pious institution, founded to procure work for deserving young women.  This establishment, which is called St. Mary’s Society, undertakes to place them out as servants, or by the day as needlewomen.  Now this institution is managed by such charitable persons, that they themselves undertake to supply an outfit, when the young women, received under their protection are not sufficiently well clothed to accept the places destined for them.”

This plausible explanation of Florine’s magnificent offers appeared to satisfy the hearer.  “I can now understand the high wages of which you speak, mademoiselle,” resumed she; “only I have no claim to be patronized by the charitable persons who direct this establishment.”

“You suffer—­you are laborious and honest—­those are sufficient claims; only, I must tell you, they will ask if you perform regularly your religious duties.”

“No one loves and blesses God more fervently than I do, mademoiselle,” said the hunchback, with mild firmness; “but certain duties are an affair of conscience, and I would rather renounce this patronage, than be compelled—­”

“Not the least in the world.  Only, as I told you, there are very pious persons at the head of this institution, and you must not be astonished at their questions on such a subject.  Make the trial, at all events; what do you risk?  If the propositions are suitable—­accept them; if, on the contrary, they should appear to touch your liberty of conscience, you can always refuse—­your position will not be the worse for it.”

Mother Bunch had nothing to object to this reasoning which left her at perfect freedom, and disarmed her of all suspicion.  “On these terms, mademoiselle,” said she, “I accept your offer, and thank you with all my heart.  But who will introduce me?”