black satin shoe—­for Dr. Baleinier had allowed her to dress herself with her usual taste, and elegance of costume was not with Adrienne a mark of coquetry, but of duty towards herself, because she had been made so beautiful.  At sight of this young lady, whose dress and appearance she admired in all simplicity, without any envious or bitter comparison with her own poor clothes and deformity of person, Mother Bunch said immediately to herself, with the good sense and sagacity peculiar to her, that it was strange a mad woman should dress so sanely and gracefully.  It was therefore with a mixture of surprise and emotion that she approached the fence which separated her from Adrienne —­reflecting, however, that the unfortunate girl might still be insane, and that this might turn out to be merely a lucid interval.  And now, with a timid voice, but loud enough to be heard, Mother Bunch, in order to assure herself of Adrienne’s identity, said, whilst her heart beat fast:  “Mdlle. de Cardoville!”

“Who calls me?” said Adrienne.  On hastily raising her head, and perceiving the hunchback, she could not suppress a slight cry of surprise, almost fright.  For indeed this poor creature, pale, deformed, miserably clad, thus appearing suddenly before her, must have inspired Mdlle, de Cardoville, so passionately fond of grace and beauty, with a feeling of repugnance, if not of terror—­and these two sentiments were both visible in her expressive countenance.

The other did not perceive the impression she had made.  Motionless, with her eyes fixed, and her hands clasped in a sort of adoring admiration, she gazed on the dazzling beauty of Adrienne, whom she had only half seen through the grated window.  All that Agricola had told her of the charms of his protectress, appeared to her a thousand times below the reality; and never, even in her secret poetic visions, had she dreamed of such rare perfection.  Thus, by a singular contrast, a feeling of mutual surprise came over these two girls—­extreme types of deformity and beauty, wealth and wretchedness.  After rendering, as it were, this involuntary homage to Adrienne, Mother Bunch advanced another step towards the fence.

“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.”