ate council with her four
friends. This conference, entirely devoid of animation, lasted half an
hour. They spoke together in a low voice, exchanging words which each of
them appeared to have thought over. From time to time Monsieur Alain and
Monsieur Joseph consulted a note-book, turning over its leaves.

"See the faubourg," said Madame de la Chanterie to Monsieur Joseph, who
left the house.

That was the only word Godefroid distinguished.

"And you the Saint-Marceau quarter," she continued, addressing Monsieur
Nicolas. "Hunt through the faubourg Saint-Germain and see if you can
find what we want;" this to the Abbe de Veze, who went away immediately.
"And you, my dear Alain," she added, smiling at the latter, "make an
examination. There, those important matters are all settled," she said,
returning to Godefroid.

She seated herself in her armchair, took a little piece of linen from
the table before her, and began to sew as if she were employed to do so.

Godefroid, lost in conjecture, and still thinking of a royalist
conspiracy, took his landlady's remark as an opening, and he began to
study her as he seated himself beside her. He was struck by the singular
dexterity with which she worked. Although everything about her bespoke
the great lady, she showed the dexterity of a workwoman; for every one
can see at a glance, by certain manipulations, the work of a workman or
an amateur.

"You do that," said Godefroid, "as if you knew the trade."

"Alas!" she answered, without raising her head, "I did know it once out
of necessity."

Two large tears came into her eyes, and rolled down her cheeks to the
linen in her hand.

"Forgive me, madame!" cried Godefroid.

Madame de Chanterie looked at her new lodger, and saw such an expression
of genuine regret upon his face, that she made him a friendly sign.
After drying her eyes, she immediately recovered the calmness that
characterized her face, which was less cold than chastened.

"You are here, Monsieur Godefroid,--for you know already that we shall
call you by your baptized name,--you are here in the midst of ruins
caused by a great tempest. We have each been struck and wounded in our
hearts, our family interests, or our fortunes, by that whirlwind of
forty years, which overthrew religion and royalty, and dispersed the
elements of all that made old France. Words that seem quite harmless
do sometimes wound us all, and that is why we are so silent. We speak
rarely of ou