he corner of the bridge over the Loing. The little building had a
front door opening on a corridor, and one room on the ground-floor with
two windows on the street; behind this came the kitchen, with a glass
door opening to an inner courtyard about thirty feet square. A small
staircase, lighted on the side towards the river by small windows, led
to the first floor where there were three chambers, and above these were
two attic rooms. Monsieur Bongrand borrowed two thousand francs from
La Bougival's savings to pay the first instalment of the price,--six
thousand francs,--and obtained good terms for payment of the rest.
As Ursula wished to buy her uncle's books, Bongrand knocked down the
partition between two rooms on the bedroom floor, finding that their
united length was the same as that of the doctor's library, and gave
room for his bookshelves.

Savinien and Bongrand urged on the workmen who were cleaning, painting,
and otherwise renewing the tiny place, so that before the end of March
Ursula was able to leave the inn and take up her abode in the ugly
house; where, however, she found a bedroom exactly like the one she had
left; for it was filled with all her furniture, claimed by the justice
of peace when the seals were removed. La Bougival, sleeping in the
attic, could be summoned by a bell placed near the head of the
young girl's bed. The room intended for the books, the salon on the
ground-floor and the kitchen, though still unfurnished, had been hung
with fresh papers and repainted, and only awaited the purchases which
the young girl hoped to make when her godfather's effects were sold.

Though the strength of Ursula's character was well known to the abbe and
Monsieur Bongrand, they both feared the sudden change from the comfort
and elegancies to which her uncle had accustomed her to this barren and
denuded life. As for Savinien he wept over it. He did, in fact, make
private payments to the workman and to the upholsterer, so that Ursula
should perceive no difference between the new chamber and the old one.
But the young girl herself, whose happiness now lay in Savinien's own
eyes, showed the gentlest resignation, which endeared her more and more
to her two old friends, and proved to them for the hundredth time that
no troubles but those of the heart could make her suffer. The grief she
felt for the loss of her godfather was far too deep to let her even feel
the bitterness of her change of fortune, though it added