wn me the pleasures of charity, I
should like to obtain for that splendid old man a full return for his
great book. I don't know if you have confidence enough in my capacity to
give me the means of undertaking such an affair. From information I have
obtained, it will cost nine thousand francs to manufacture an edition
of fifteen hundred copies, and their selling value will be twenty-four
thousand francs. But as we should have to pay off the three thousand
and some hundred francs due to Barbet, it would be an outlay of twelve
thousand francs to risk. Oh! madame, if you only knew what bitter
regrets I feel for having dissipated my little fortune! The spirit of
charity has appeared to me; it fills me with the ardor of an initiate.
I wish to renounce the world, I long to embrace the life of these
gentlemen and be worthy of you. Many a time during the last two days I
have blessed the chance that brought me to this house. I will obey you
in all things until you judge me fit to be one of yours."

"Then," said Madame de la Chanterie, after reflecting for a time,
"listen to me, for I have important things to tell. You have been
allured, my child, by the poesy of misfortune. Yes, misfortunes are
often poetical; for, as I think, poesy is a certain effect on the
sensibilities, and sorrows affect the sensibilities,--life is so intense
in grief!"

"Yes, madame, I know that I have been gripped by the demon of
curiosity. But how could I help it? I have not yet acquired the habit of
penetrating to the heart of these great misfortunes; I cannot go among
them with the calmness of your three soldiers of the Lord. But, let me
tell you, it is since I have recovered from that first excitement that I
have chiefly longed to devote myself to your work."

"Listen to me, my dear angel!" said Madame de la Chanterie, who uttered
the last three words with a gentle solemnity that touched the young
man strangely. "We have forbidden ourselves absolutely,--and we do
not trifle with words here; what is forbidden no longer occupies our
minds,--we have forbidden ourselves to enter into any speculations. To
print a book for sale on the chance of profit is a matter of business,
and any operation of that kind would throw us into all the entanglements
of commerce. Certainly your scheme seems to me feasible,--even
necessary. But do you think it is the first that has offered itself?
A score of times, a hundred times, we have come upon just such ways of
saving