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?”

“By this time, madame, I hope he has obtained his freedom; thanks to the generosity of one of his comrades.  His father went yesterday to offer bail for him, and they promised that he should be released to-day.  But, from his prison, he wrote to me, that he had something of importance to reveal to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes, madame.  Should Agricola be released immediately by what means can he communicate with you?”

“He has secrets to tell me!” resumed Mdlle. de Cardoville, with an air of thoughtful surprise.  “I seek in vain to imagine what they can be; but so long as I am confined in this house, and secluded from every one, M. Agricola must not think of addressing himself directly or indirectly to me.  He must wait till I am at liberty; but that is not all, he must deliver from that convent two poor children, who are much more to be pitied than I am.  The daughters of Marshal Simon are detained there against their will.”