he cannot see Mdlle. Adrienne, may he not address himself to
some of her family?"

"It is from her family, above all, that he must conceal whatever he
knows. Mdlle. Adrienne may recover, and then M. Agricola can speak to
her. But should she never get well again, tell your adopted brother that
it is better for him to keep his secret than to place it (which would
infallibly happen) at the disposal of the enemies of my mistress."

"I understand you, mademoiselle," said Mother Bunch, sadly. "The family
of your generous mistress do not love her, and perhaps persecute her?"

"I cannot tell you more on this subject now; and, as regards myself, let
me conjure you to obtain M. Agricola's promise that he will not mention
to any one in the world the step you have taken, or the advice I have
given you. The happiness--no, not the happiness," resumed Florine
bitterly, as if that were a lost hope, "not the happiness--but the peace
of my life depends upon your discretion."

"Oh! be satisfied!" said the sewing-girl, both affected and amazed
by the sorrowful expression of Florine's countenance; "I will not be
ungrateful. No one in the world but Agricola shall know that I have seen
you."

"Thank you--thank you, mademoiselle," cried Florine, with emotion.

"Do you thank me?" said the other, astonished to see the large tears
roll down her cheeks.

"Yes! I am indebted to you for a moment of pure, unmixed happiness; for
I have perhaps rendered a service to my dear mistress, without risking
the increase of the troubles that already overwhelm me."

"You are not happy, then?"

"That astonishes you; but, believe me, whatever may be, your fate, I
would gladly change with you."

"Alas, mademoiselle!" said the sempstress: "you appear to have too good
a heart, for me to let you entertain such a wish--particularly now."

"What do you mean?"

"I hope sincerely, mademoiselle," proceeded Mother Bunch, with deep
sadness, "that you may never know what it is to want work, when labor is
your only resource."

"Are you reduced to that extremity?" cried Florine, looking anxiously
at the young sempstress, who hung her head, and made no answer. She
reproached herself, in her excessive delicacy, with having made a
communication which resembled a complaint, though it had only been wrung
from her by the thought of her dreadful situation.

"If it is so," went on Florine, "I pity you with all my heart; and yet I
know not, if my misfortunes are not st