“What do you want?” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, rising with a sentiment of repugnance, which could not escape the work-girl’s notice; accordingly, she held down her head timidly, and said in a soft voice:  “I beg your pardon, madame, to appear so suddenly before you.  But moments are precious, I come from Agricola.”

As she pronounced these words, the sempstress raised her eyes anxiously, fearing that Mdlle. de Cardoville might have forgotten the name of the workman.  But, to her great surprise and joy, the fears of Adrienne seemed to diminish at the name of Agricola, and approaching the fence, she looked at the speaker with benevolent curiosity.

“You come from M. Agricola Baudoin?” said she.  “Who are you?”

“His adopted sister, madame—­a poor needlewoman, who lives in the same house.”

Adrienne appeared to collect her thoughts, and said, smiling kindly, after a moment’s silence:  “It was you then, who persuaded M. Agricola to apply to me to procure him bail?”

“Oh, madame, do you remember—­”

“I never forget anything that is generous and noble.  M. Agricola was much affected when he spoke of your devotion.  I remember it well; it would be strange if I did not.  But how came you here, in this convent?”

“They told me that I should perhaps be able to get some occupation here, as I am out of work.  Unfortunately, I have been refused by the lady superior.”

“And how did you recognize me?”

“By your great beauty, madame, of which Agricola had told me.”

“Or rather by this,” said Adrienne, smiling as she lifted, with the tips of her rosy fingers, one end of a long, silky ringlet of golden hair.

“You must pardon Agricola, madame,” said the sewing girl, with one of those half smiles, which rarely settled on her lips:  “he is a poet, and omitted no single perfection in the respectful and admiring description which he gave of his protectress.”

“And what induced you to come and speak to me?”

“The hope of being useful to you, madame.  You received Agricola with so much goodness, that I have ventured to go shares in his gratitude.”

“You may well venture to do so, my dear girl,” said Adrienne, with ineffable grace; “until now, unfortunately, I have only been able to serve your adopted brother by intention.”

As they exchanged these words, Adrienne and Mother Bunch looked at each other with increasing surprise.  The latter was, first of all, astonished that a person who passed for mad should express herself as Adrienne did; next, she was amazed at the ease and freedom with which she herself answered the questions of Mdlle. de Cardoville—­not knowing that the latter was endowed with the precious privilege of lofty and benevolent natures, to draw out from those who approached her whatever sympathized with herself.  On her side, Mdlle. de Cardoville was deeply moved and astonished to hear this young, low-born girl, dressed almost like