plants that scented
the room.

For a moment silence reigned. Madame de la Baudraye, studying Lousteau,
saw that he was dressed as the most fastidious dandy might have been.

"You are the only person in the world who can help me, or hold out a
plank to me--for I am drowning, and have already swallowed more than one
mouthful----" said he, standing still in front of Dinah, and seeming to
yield to an overpowering impulse. "Since you see me here, it is because
my affairs are going to the devil."

"That is enough," said she; "I understand."

There was another pause, during which Lousteau turned away, took out his
handkerchief, and seemed to wipe away a tear.

"How much do you want, Etienne," she went on in motherly tones. "We are
at this moment old comrades; speak to me as you would to--to Bixiou."

"To save my furniture from vanishing into thin air to-morrow morning at
the auction mart, eighteen hundred francs! To repay my friends, as much
again! Three quarters' rent to the landlord--whom you know.--My 'uncle'
wants five hundred francs--"

"And you!--to live on?"

"Oh! I have my pen----"

"It is heavier to lift than any one could believe who reads your
articles," said she, with a subtle smile.--"I have not such a sum as
you need, but come to-morrow at eight; the bailiff will surely wait till
nine, especially if you bring him away to pay him."

She must, she felt, dismiss Lousteau, who affected to be unable to look
at her; she herself felt such pity as might cut every social Gordian
knot.

"Thank you," she added, rising and offering her hand to Lousteau. "Your
confidence has done me good! It is long indeed since my heart has known
such joy----"

Lousteau took her hand and pressed it tenderly to his heart.

"A drop of water in the desert--and sent by the hand of an angel! God
always does things handsomely!"

He spoke half in jest and half pathetically; but, believe me, as a piece
of acting it was as fine as Talma's in his famous part of _Leicester_,
which was played throughout with touches of this kind. Dinah felt his
heart beating through his coat; it was throbbing with satisfaction, for
the journalist had had a narrow escape from the hulks of justice; but
it also beat with a very natural fire at seeing Dinah rejuvenescent and
restored by wealth.

Madame de la Baudraye, stealing an examining glance at Etienne, saw that
his expression was in harmony with the flowers of love, which, as she
thought, had bloss