s despair, when, on his
return home, he no longer found the children that a dying mother had
confided to him!"

"He must take care not to act with the least violence. It would ruin
all. Take this ring," said Adrienne, drawing it from her finger, "and
give it to him. He must go instantly--are you sure that you can remember
a name and address?"

"Oh! yes, madame. Be satisfied on that point. Agricola only mentioned
your name once, and I have not forgotten it. There is a memory of the
heart."

"I perceive it, my dear girl. Remember, then, the name of the Count de
Montbron."

"The Count de Montbron--I shall not forget."

"He is one of my good old friends, and lives on the Place Vendome, No.
7."

"Place Vendome, No. 7--I shall remember."

"M. Agricola's father must go to him this evening, and, if he is not at
home, wait for his coming in. He must ask to speak to him, as if from
me, and send him this ring as a proof of what he says. Once with him, he
must tell him all--the abduction of the girls, the name of the convent
where they are confined, and my own detention as a lunatic in the asylum
of Dr. Baleinier. Truth has an accent of its own, which M. de Montbron
will recognize. He is a man of much experience and judgment, and
possessed of great influence. He will immediately take the necessary
steps, and to-morrow, or the day after, these poor orphans and myself
will be restored to liberty--all thanks to you! But moments are
precious; we might be discovered; make haste, dear child!"

At the moment of drawing back, Adrienne said to Mother Bunch, with so
sweet a smile and affectionate a tone, that it was impossible not to
believe her sincere: "M. Agricola told me that I had a heart like yours.
I now understand how honorable, how flattering those words were for me.
Pray, give me your hand!" added Mdlle. de Cardoville, whose eyes were
filling with tears; and, passing her beautiful hand through an opening
in the fence, she offered it to the other. The words and the gesture
of the fair patrician were full of so much real cordiality, that the
sempstress, with no false shame, placed tremblingly her own poor thin
hand in Adrienne's, while the latter, with a feeling of pious respect,
lifted it spontaneously to her lips, and said: "Since I cannot embrace
you as my sister, let me at least kiss this hand, ennobled by labor!"

Suddenly, footsteps were heard in the garden of Dr. Baleinier; Adrienne
withdrew abruptly, and disappear