the whole cost of fitting up the rooms proved to be not over
six hundred francs.

"We lead here," said Madame de la Chanterie, "a Christian life, which
does not, as you know, accord with many superfluities; I think you have
too many as it is."

In giving this hint to her future lodger, she looked at a diamond which
gleamed in the ring through which Godefroid's blue cravat was slipped.

"I only speak of this," she added, "because of the intention you
expressed to abandon the frivolous life you complained of to Monsieur
Mongenod."

Godefroid looked at Madame de la Chanterie as he listened to the
harmonies of her limpid voice; he examined that face so purely white,
resembling those of the cold, grave women of Holland whom the Flemish
painters have so wonderfully reproduced with their smooth skins, in
which a wrinkle is impossible.

"White and plump!" he said to himself, as he walked away; "but her hair
is white, too."

Godefroid, like all weak natures, took readily to a new life, believing
it satisfactory; and he was now quite eager to take up his abode in the
rue Chanoinesse. Nevertheless, a prudent thought, or, if you prefer
to say so, a distrustful thought, occurred to him. Two days before his
installation, he went again to see Monsieur Mongenod to obtain some more
definite information about the house he was to enter.

During the few moments he had spent in his future lodgings overlooking
the changes that were being made in them, he had noticed the coming and
going of several persons whose appearance and behavior, without being
exactly mysterious, excited a belief that some secret occupation or
profession was being carried on in that house. At that particular period
there was much talk of attempts by the elder branch of the Bourbons to
recover the throne, and Godefroid suspected some conspiracy. When he
found himself in the banker's counting-room held by the scrutinizing eye
of Frederic Mongenod while he made his inquiry, he felt ashamed as he
saw a derisive smile on the lips of the listener.

"Madame la Baronne de la Chanterie," replied the banker, "is one of
the most obscure persons in Paris, but she is also one of the most
honorable. Have you any object in asking for information?"

Godefroid retreated into generalities: he was going to live among
strangers; he naturally wished to know something of those with whom he
should be intimately thrown. But the banker's smile became more and more
sarcastic; and God