and "made her life," to use an expression by which the lower
classes in Paris describe the abuse of the most precious gifts of nature
and youth.

To look for a girl in Paris is to look for a smelt in the Seine; nothing
but chance can throw her into the net. The chance came. Mere Cardinal,
who to entertain a neighbor had taken her to the Bobino theatre,
recognized in the leading lady her own daughter, whom the first comedian
had held under his control for three years. The mother, gratified at
first at beholding her daughter in a fine gown of gold brocade, her hair
dressed like that of a duchess, and wearing open-worked stockings, satin
shoes, and receiving the plaudits of the audience, ended by screaming
out from her seat in the gallery:--

"You shall soon hear of me, murderer of your own mother! I'll know
whether miserable strolling-players have the right to come and debauch
young girls of sixteen!"

She waited at the stage-door to capture her daughter, but the first
comedian and the leading lady had no doubt jumped across the footlights
and left the theatre with the audience, instead of issuing by the
stage-door, where Madame Cardinal and her crony, Mere Mahoudeau, made an
infernal rumpus, which two municipal guards were called upon to pacify.
Those august personages, before whom the two women lowered the diapason
of their voices, called the mother's attention to the fact that the girl
was of legitimate theatrical age, and that instead of screaming at
the door after the director, she could summon him before the
justice-of-peace, or the police-court, whichever she pleased.

The next day Madame Cardinal intended to consult Cerizet, in view of
the fact that he was a clerk in the office of the justice-of-peace;
but, before reaching his lair in the rue des Poules, she was met by the
porter of a house in which an uncle of hers, a certain Toupillier, was
living, who told her that the old man hadn't probably two days to live,
being then in the last extremity.

"Well, how do you expect me to help it?" replied the widow Cardinal.

"We count on you, my dear Madame Cardinal; we know you won't forget the
good advice we'll give you. Here's the thing. Lately, your poor uncle,
not being able to stir round, has trusted me to go and collect the
rents of his house, rue Notre-Dame de Nazareth, and the arrears of his
dividends at the Treasury, which come to eighteen hundred francs."

By this time the widow Cardinal's eyes were becom