ed
light on her girlish face. A pile of shaped pieces of linen told me that
she was a sempstress. She looked like a spirit of solitude. When I held
out the bill, I remarked that she had not been at home when I called in
the morning.

"'"But the money was left with the porter's wife," said she.

"'I pretended not to understand.

"'"You go out early, mademoiselle, it seems."

"'"I very seldom leave my room; but when you work all night, you are
obliged to take a bath sometimes."

"'I looked at her. A glance told me all about her life. Here was a girl
condemned by misfortune to toil, a girl who came of honest farmer folk,
for she had still a freckle or two that told of country birth. There
was an indefinable atmosphere of goodness about her; I felt as if I were
breathing sincerity and frank innocence. It was refreshing to my lungs.
Poor innocent child, she had faith in something; there was a crucifix
and a sprig or two of green box above her poor little painted wooden
bedstead; I felt touched, or somewhat inclined that way. I felt ready
to offer to charge no more than twelve per cent, and so give something
towards establishing her in a good way of business.

"'"But maybe she has a little youngster of a cousin," I said to myself,
"who would raise money on her signature and sponge on the poor girl."

"'So I went away, keeping my generous impulses well under control; for
I have frequently had occasion to observe that when benevolence does no
harm to him who gives it, it is the ruin of him who takes. When you came
in I was thinking that Fanny Malvaut would make a nice little wife; I
was thinking of the contrast between her pure, lonely life and the life
of the Countess--she has sunk as low as a bill of exchange already, she
will sink to the lowest depths of degradation before she has done!'--I
scrutinized him during the deep silence that followed, but in a moment
he spoke again. 'Well,' he said, 'do you think that it is nothing to
have this power of insight into the deepest recesses of the human heart,
to embrace so many lives, to see the naked truth underlying it all?
There are no two dramas alike: there are hideous sores, deadly chagrins,
love scenes, misery that soon will lie under the ripples of the Seine,
young men's joys that lead to the scaffold, the laughter of despair,
and sumptuous banquets. Yesterday it was a tragedy. A worthy soul of
a father drowned himself because he could not support his family.
To-morrow