a beggar, express herself in terms selected with so
much propriety. The more she looked at her, the
more the feeling of repugnance she at first experienced
wore off, and was at length converted into quite the
opposite sentiment. With that rapid and minute
power of observation natural to women, she remarked
beneath the black crape of Mother Bunch’s cap,
the smoothness and brilliancy of the fair, chestnut
hair. She remarked, too, the whiteness of the
long, thin hand, though it displayed itself at the
end of a patched and tattered sleeve—an
infallible proof that care, and cleanliness, and self-respect
were at least struggling against symptoms of fearful
distress. Adrienne discovered, also, in the pale
and melancholy features, in the expression of the
blue eyes, at once intelligent, mild and timid, a
soft and modest dignity, which made one forget the
deformed figure. Adrienne loved physical beauty,
and admired it passionately, but she had too superior
a mind, too noble a soul, too sensitive a heart, not
to know how to appreciate moral beauty, even when
it beamed from a humble and suffering countenance.
Only, this kind of appreciation was new to Mdlle.
de Cardoville; until now, her large fortune and elegant
habits had kept her at a distance from persons of
Mother Bunch’s class. After a short silence,
during which the fair patrician and the poor work-girl
had closely examined each other, Adrienne said to
the other: “It is easy, I think, to explain
the cause of our mutual astonishment. You have,
no doubt, discovered that I speak pretty reasonably
for a mad woman—if they have told you I
am one. And I,” added Mdlle. de Cardoville,
in a tone of respectful commiseration, “find
that the delicacy of your language and manners so singularly
contrast with the position in which you appear to be,
that my surprise must be even greater than yours.”
“Ah, madame!” cried Mother Bunch, with
a welling forth of such deep and sincere joy that
the tears started to her eyes; “is it true?—they
have deceived me—you are not mad!
Just now, when I beheld you so kind and beautiful,
when I heard the sweet tone of your voice, I could
not believe that such a misfortune had happened to
you. But, alas! how is it then, madame, that
you are in this place?”
“Poor child!” said Adrienne, touched by
the affectionate interest of this excellent creature;
“and how is it that you, with such a heart and
head, should be in such distress? But be satisfied!
I shall not always be here—and that will
suffice to tell you, that we shall both resume the
place which becomes us. Believe me, I shall never
forget how, in spite of the painful ideas which must
needs occupy your mind, on seeing yourself deprived
of work—your only resource—you
have still thought of coming to me, and of trying
to serve me. You may, indeed, be eminently useful
to me, and I am delighted at it, for then I shall
owe you much—and you shall see how I will
take advantage of my gratitude!” said Adrienne,
with a sweet smile. “But,” resumed
she, “before talking of myself, let us think
of others. Is your adopted brother still in prison?”