“After all,” she said, “you are prodigiously lucky in your misfortunes; for you are too imprudent in all conscience.”

And, as the poor girl was not a little astonished at this, she went on,—­

“Yes, you ran a great risk; and I can easily prove it to you.  Who are you?  Well, you need not turn pale that way:  I don’t ask any questions.  But after all, if you carry your jewels yourself to the ‘Uncle,’ you go, so to say, and rush right into the lion’s mouth.  If they had arrested you when they saw you had no papers; if they had carried you before a magistrate—­eh?  Ah! my beautiful friend, you would have fared pretty badly, I dare say.”

And then, changing her tone, she began scolding her beautiful young lady for having concealed her troubles from her.  That was wrong; that hurt her feelings.  Why had she given her money last night?  Did she ask for money?  Did she look like such a terrible creditor?  She knew, God be thanked! what life was here below, and that we are bound to help one another.  To be sure, there was that furniture dealer, who must be paid; but she would have been quite willing to make him wait; and why should he not?  She had got very different people to wait!  Why, only last week, she had sent one of those men away, and a dressmaker into the bargain, who came to levy upon one of her tenants in the back building,—­the very nicest, and prettiest, and best of them all.

Thus she discoursed and discoursed with amazing volubility, till at last, when she thought she had made a sufficiently strong impression on her “poor little pussy-cat,” she said,—­

“But one can easily see, my dear young lady, that you are a mere child.  Sell your poor little jewels!  Why, that is murder, as long as there is some one at hand quite ready to do any thing for you.”

At this sudden, but not altogether unexpected attack, Henrietta trembled.

“For I am sure,” continued Mrs. Chevassat, “if it were only to be agreeable to you, he would give one of his arms, this poor M. Maxime.”

Henrietta looked so peremptorily at her, that the worthy lady seemed to be quite disconcerted.

“I forbid you,” cried the young lady, with a voice trembling with indignation,—­“I forbid you positively ever to mention his name!”

The woman shrugged her shoulders.

“As you like it,” she answered.

And then, ready to change the conversation, she added,—­

“Well, then, let us return to your ring.  What do you propose to do?”

“That is exactly why I came to you,” replied Henrietta.  “I do not know what is to be done in such a case.”

Mrs. Chevassat smiled, very much pleased.

“And you did very well to come to us,” she said.

“Chevassat will go, take the charcoal-dealer and the grocer next door with him; and before going to bed you will have your money, I promise you!  You see he understands pretty well how to make the clerks do their duty, my Chevassat.”