At one glance the old dealer had taken in every thing; and, after a smile of gratitude addressed to his sister, he said to Henrietta,—­

“This is your room, madam.”

The poor girl, all overcome, sought in vain for words to express her gratitude.  The old lady did not give her time.  She showed her, spread out on the bed, petticoats, white linen, stockings, a warm dressing-wrapper of gray flannel with blue flowers, and at the foot a pair of slippers.

“This will answer for a change to-night, madam,” she said.  “I have provided what was most pressing; to-morrow we will see about the rest.”

Big tears, tears of happiness and gratitude, this time, rolled down Henrietta’s pale cheeks.  Oh, indeed! this was a surprise, and a delicious one, which the ingenious foresight of her new friend had prepared for her.

“Ah, you are so kind!” she said, giving her hands to brother and sister—­“you are so kind!  How can I ever repay what you are doing for me?”

Then overcoming her emotion, and turning to Papa Ravinet, she added,—­

“But pray, who are you, sir,—­you who thus come to succor, a poor young girl who is an utter stranger to you, doubling the value of your assistance by your great delicacy?”

The old lady replied in his place,—­“My brother, madam, is an unfortunate man, who has paid for a moment’s forgetfulness of duty, with his happiness, his prospects, and his very life.  Do not question him.  Let him be for you what he is for all of us,—­Anthony Ravinet, dealer in curiosities.”

The voice of the old lady betrayed such great sorrow, silently endured, that Henrietta looked ashamed, regretting her indiscretion.  But the old man at once said,—­

“What I may say to you madam, is, that you owe me no gratitude,—­no, none whatever.  What I do, my own interest commands me to do; and I deserve no credit for it.  Why do you speak of gratitude?  It is I who shall forever be under obligations to you for the immense service which you render me.”

He seemed to be inspired by his own words; his figure straightened up; his eyes flashed fire; and he was on the point of letting, perhaps, some secret escape him, when his sister interrupted him, saying reproachfully,—­

“Anthony, Anthony!”

He stopped at once.  Then he resumed,—­

“You are right; you are right!  I forget myself here; and I ought to be already back in Water Street.  It is of the utmost importance that that woman Chevassat should not miss me a moment to-night.”

He was about to leave them, when the old lady held him back, and said,—­

“You ought to go back, I know; only be careful!  It is a miracle that M. de Brevan has never met you and recognized you, during the year he has been coming to the house in which you live.  If such a misfortune should happen now, our enemies might once more escape us.  After the young lady’s desperate act, he would not fail to recognize the man who has saved her.  What can you do to avoid meeting him?”