ve grown quite pale and thin; I am
sure you work too hard."

"Oh, no, indeed, M. Rodolph, it is not that. On the contrary, my work
does me good; it hinders me from thinking too much, for I am obliged to
attend to what I am about. But it is grief, M. Rodolph, and nothing
else, that has altered me so much. And how can I help it? Every time I
see that poor Germain, I grieve more and more."

"He is still as desponding as ever, then?"

"Oh, worse than ever, M. Rodolph. And what is the most distressing is,
that, whatever I try to do to cheer him up, takes quite the contrary
effect; it seems as though a spell hung over me!" And here the large,
dark eyes of Rigolette were filled with tears.

"How do you know, my dear neighbour?"

"Why, only yesterday I went to see him, and to take him a book he was
desirous of having; it was a romance we read together when we lived
happily as near neighbours and dear friends. Well, directly he saw the
book, he burst into tears; but that did not astonish me,--it seemed
natural enough. Poor fellow! I dare say it brought back to his
recollection those happy evenings when he used to sit beside the fire in
my nice, pretty little room; while now he was in a horrid prison, the
companion of vile and wicked men, who only jeered at his melancholy.
Poor, dear Germain! It is very, very hard!"

"Take courage, my dear friend," said Rodolph. "When Germain quits his
prison, and his innocence is proved, he will find his mother and many
dear friends, in whose society, as well as in yours, he will soon forget
his present sufferings, as well as the hard trials he has undergone."

"That's all very pleasant when it arrives, but that won't stop his
tormenting himself till it does. But that is not all, neither."

"What other uneasiness has he?"

"Why, he being the only innocent man among all the bad people there,
they are always annoying and behaving ill to him, because he will not
join in their idle and vicious amusements. The head turnkey, who is a
very good sort of man, advised me to recommend Germain, for his own
sake, not to keep himself at quite such a distance from his companions,
but to try and familiarise himself with these bad men. However, it is no
use trying; he cannot bring himself to endure their company or
conversation. And I am constantly tormented with the dread that some of
these days they will do him some harm out of spite."

Then all at once interrupting herself, and drying her tears, Ri