“Oh, yes, quite resolved:  for my infamy was gnawing at my heart.  Jacques had died in my arms despising me; and I loved him—­mark me, sister,” added Cephyse, with passionate enthusiasm, “I loved him as we love only once in life!”

“Let our fate be accomplished, then!” said Mother Bunch with a pensive air.

“But you have never told me, sister, the cause of your departure from Mdlle. de Cardoville’s,” resumed Cephyse, after a moment’s silence.

“It will be the only secret that I shall take with me, dear Cephyse,” said the other, casting down her eyes.  And she thought, with bitter joy, that she would soon be delivered from the fear which had poisoned the last days of her sad life—­the fear of meeting Agricola, informed of the fatal and ridiculous love she felt for him.

For, it must be said, this fatal and despairing love was one of the causes of the suicide of the unfortunate creature.  Since the disappearance of her journal, she believed that the blacksmith knew the melancholy secret contained in its sad pages.  She doubted not the generosity and good heart of Agricola; but she had such doubts of herself, she was so ashamed of this passion, however pure and noble, that, even in the extremity to which Cephyse and herself were reduced—­wanting work, wanting bread—­no power on earth could have induced her to meet Agricola, in an attempt to ask him for assistance.  Doubtless, she would have taken another view of the subject if her mind had not been obscured by that sort of dizziness to which the firmest characters are exposed when their misfortunes surpass all bounds.  Misery, hunger, the influence, almost contagious in such a moment, of the suicidal ideas of Cephyse, and weariness of a life so long devoted to pain and mortification, gave the last blow to the sewing-girl’s reason.  After long struggling against the fatal design of her sister, the poor, dejected, broken-hearted creature finished by determining to share Cephyse’s fate, and seek in death the end of so many evils.

“Of what are you thinking, sister?” said Cephyse, astonished at the long silence.  The other replied, trembling:  “I think of that which made me leave Mdlle. de Cardoville so abruptly, and appear so ungrateful in her eyes.  May the fatality which drove me from her house have made no other victims! may my devoted service, however obscure and powerless, never be missed by her, who extended her noble hand to the poor sempstress, and deigned to call me sister!  May she be happy—­oh, ever happy!” said Mother Bunch, clasping her hands with the ardor of a sincere invocation.

“That is noble, sister—­such a wish in such a moment!” said Cephyse.

“Oh,” said her sister, with energy, “I loved, I admired that marvel of genius, and heart, and ideal beauty—­I viewed her with pious respect—­for never was the power of the Divinity revealed in a more adorable and purer creation.  At least one of my last thoughts will have been of her.”