erty which shuns communication and
blushes at a single glance of pity. In this almost Arctic winter he wore
clothes rendered thin by the constant friction of the clothes brush,
over which was a light overcoat about as thick as the web of a spider.
His shoes were well blacked, but their condition told the piteous tale
of long walks in search of employment, or of that good luck which seems
to evade its pursuer.

Paul was holding a roll of manuscript in his hand, and as he entered
the room he threw it on the bed with a despairing gesture. "A failure
again!" exclaimed he, in accents of the utmost depression. "Nothing else
but failures!"

The young woman rose hastily to her feet; she appeared to have forgotten
the cards completely; the smile of satisfaction faded from her face and
her features, and an expression of utter weariness took its place.

"What! no success?" she cried, affecting a surprise which was evidently
assumed. "No success, after all your promises when you left me this
morning?"

"This morning, Rose, a ray of hope had penetrated my heart; but I have
been deceived, or rather I deceived myself, and I took my ardent desires
for so many promises which were certain to be fulfilled. The people that
I have been to have not even the kindness to say 'No' plain and flat;
they listen to all you have to say, and as soon as your back is turned
they forget your existence. The coin that passes around in this
infernal town is indeed nothing but idle words, and that is all that
poverty-stricken talent can expect."

A silence of some duration ensued, and Paul was too much absorbed in
his own thoughts to notice the look of contempt with which Rose was
regarding him. His helpless resignation to adverse circumstances
appeared to have turned her to stone.

"A nice position we are in!" said she at last. "What do you think will
become of us?"

"Alas! I do not know."

"Nor I. Yesterday Madame Loupins came to me and asked for the eleven
francs we owe here; and told me plainly that if within three days we did
not settle our account, she would turn us out; and I know enough of her
to be sure that she will keep her word. The detestable old hag would do
anything for the pleasure of seeing me on the streets."

"Alone and friendless in the world," muttered Paul, paying but little
attention to the young girl's words, "without a creature or a relative
to care for you, or to lend you a helping hand."

"We have not a copper in the