Contrary to all expectations, the concierge’s wife appeared neither surprised nor angry.  She only shrugged her shoulders as she said,—­

“As you like, my ‘little pussy-cat.’  Only believe me, it is no use economizing in one’s eating.”

From the day of this coup d’etat, Henrietta went down every morning herself to buy her penny-roll and the little supply of milk which constituted her breakfast.  For the rest of the day she did not leave her room, busying herself with her great work; and nothing broke in upon the distressing monotony of her life but the weekly visits of M. de Brevan.

For he did not forget his threat; and every week Henrietta was sure to see him come.  He came in with a solemn air, and coldly asked if she had reflected since he had had the honor of presenting his respects to her.  She did not answer him ordinarily, except by a look of contempt; but he did not seem in the least disconcerted.  He bowed respectfully, and invariably said, before leaving the room,—­

“Next time, then; I can wait.  Oh!  I have time; I can wait.”

If he hoped thus to conquer Henrietta more promptly, he was entirely mistaken.  This periodical insult acted only as an inducement to keep up her wrath and to increase her energy.  Her pride rose at the thought of this unceasing struggle; and she swore that she would be victorious.  It was this sentiment which inspired her with a thought, which, in its results, was destined to have a decisive influence on her future.

It was now the end of June, and she saw with trembling her little treasure grow smaller and smaller; when one day she asked Mrs. Chevassat, who seemed to be of unusually good-humor, if she could not procure her some work.  She told her that she was considered quite skilful in all kinds of needlework.

But the woman laughed at the first words, and said,—­

“Leave me alone!  Are hands like yours made to work?”

And when Henrietta insisted, and showed her, as a proof of what she could do, the embroidery which she had commenced, she replied,—­

“That is very pretty; but embroidering from morning till night would not enable a fairy to keep a canary-bird.”

There was probably some truth in what she said, exaggerated as it sounded; and the poor girl hastened to add that she understood other kinds of work also.  She was a first-class musician, for instance, and fully able to give music-lessons, or teach singing, if she could only get pupils.  At these words a ray of diabolic satisfaction lighted up the old woman’s eyes; and she cried out,—­

“What, my ‘pussy-cat,’ could you play dancing-music, like those artists who go to the large parties of fashionable people?”

“Certainly!”

“Well, that is a talent worth something!  Why did you not tell me before?  I will think of it, and you shall see.”

On the next Saturday, early in the morning, she appeared in Henrietta’s room with the bright face of a bearer of good news.