hing for me to-day, Pere Malandain?" And the answer was
always the same: "No nothing yet, _ma bonne dame_."

Fully persuaded that it was that woman who was preventing Paul from
answering, Jeanne determined not to wait any longer, but to start at
once. She wanted to take Rosalie with her, but the maid would not go
because of increasing the expense of the journey, and she only allowed
her mistress to take three hundred francs with her.

"If you want any more money," she said, "write to me, and I'll tell the
lawyer to forward you some; but if I give you any more now, Monsieur
Paul will have it all."

Then one December morning, Denis Lecoq's gig came to take them both to
the railway station, for Rosalie was going to accompany her mistress as
far as that. When they reached the station, they found out first how
much the tickets were, then, when the trunk had been labeled and the
ticket bought, they stood watching the rails, both too much occupied in
wondering what the train would be like to think of the sad cause of this
journey. At last a distant whistle made them look round, and they saw a
large, black machine approaching, which came up with a terrible noise,
dragging after it a long chain of little rolling houses. A porter opened
the door of one of these little huts, and Jeanne kissed Rosalie and got
in.

"_Au revoir_, madame. I hope you will have a pleasant journey, and will
soon be back again."

"_Au revoir_, Rosalie."

There was another whistle, and the string of carriages moved slowly off,
gradually going faster and faster, till they reached a terrific speed.
In Jeanne's compartment there were only two other passengers, who were
both asleep, and she sat and watched the fields and farms and villages
rush past. She was frightened at the speed at which she was going, and
the feeling came over her that she was entering a new phase of life,
and was being hurried towards a very different world from that in which
she had spent her peaceful girlhood and her monotonous life.

It was evening when she reached Paris. A porter took her trunk, and she
followed closely at his heels, sometimes almost running for fear of
losing sight of him, and feeling frightened as she was pushed about by
the swaying crowd through which she did not know how to pass.

"I was recommended here by Me. Roussel," she hastened to say when she
was in the hotel office.

The landlady, a big, stolid-looking woman, was sitting at the desk.

"Who is M