“It is fearful, lady.”

“But do not be alarmed, dear child; you see, that the arms of the wicked have turned against themselves; for the moment I knew the cause of your flight, you became dearer to me than ever.  From that time I made every exertion to find out where you were; after long efforts, it was only this morning that the person I had employed succeeded in discovering that you inhabited this house.  Agricola was with me when I heard it, and instantly asked to accompany me.”

“Agricola!” said Mother Bunch, clasping her hands; “he came—­”

“Yes, my child—­be calm.  Whilst I attended to you, he was busy with your poor sister.  You will soon see him.”

“Alas, lady!” resumed the hunchback, in alarm.  “He doubtless knows—­”

“Your love!  No, no; be satisfied.  Only think of the happiness of again seeing your good and worthy brother.”

“Ah, lady! may he never know what caused me so much shame, that I was like to die of it.  Thank God, he is not aware of it!”

“Then let us have no more sad thoughts, my child.  Only remember, that this worthy brother came here in time to save us from everlasting regrets—­and you from a great fault.  Oh!  I do not speak of the prejudices of the world, with regard to the right of every creature to return to heaven a life that has become too burdensome!—­I only say that you ought not to have died, because those who love you, and whom you love, were still in need of your assistance.”

“I thought you happy; Agricola was married to the girl of his choice, who will, I am sure, make him happy.  To whom could I be useful?”

“First, to myself, as you see—­and then, who tells you that Agricola will never have need of you?  Who tells you, that his happiness, or that of his family, will last forever, and will not be tried by cruel shocks?  And even if those you love had been destined to be always happy, could their happiness be complete without you?  And would not your death, with which they would perhaps have reproached themselves, have left behind it endless regrets?”

“It is true, lady,” answered the other, “I was wrong—­the dizziness of despair had seized me—­frightful misery weighed upon us—­we had not been able to find work for some days—­we lived on the charity of a poor woman, and her the cholera carried off.  To-morrow or next day, we must have died of hunger.”

“Die of hunger!—­and you knew where I lived!”

“I had written to you, lady, and receiving no answer, I thought you offended at my abrupt departure.”

“Poor, dear child! you must have been, as you say, seized with dizziness in that terrible moment; so that I have not the courage to reproach you for doubting me a single instant.  How can I blame you?  Did I not myself think of terminating my life?”

“You, lady!” cried the hunchback.