penetration to discover a strong proportion of falsehood, deceit, and
cunning behind the smooth glance or the hypocritical smile; but, spite
of the hardened villainy with which she had shared so long and deeply in
the nefarious practices of her employer, Madame Seraphin, old and
hackneyed as she was, could not view without emotion the exquisite
loveliness of the being her own hand had surrendered, even as a child,
to the cruel care of the Chouette, and whom she was now leading to an
inevitable death.

"Well, my dear," cried Madame Seraphin, speaking in a tone of honeyed
sweetness, as Fleur-de-Marie drew near, "I suppose you are very glad to
get away from prison."

"Oh, yes, indeed, ma'am. I presume it is Madame d'Harville who has had
the goodness to obtain my liberty for me?"

"You are not mistaken in your guess. But, come, we are already a little
behindhand, and we have still some distance to go."

"We are going to Madame Georges at the farm at Bouqueval, are we not,
madame?" cried La Goualeuse.

"Oh, yes, certainly, by all means!" answered the _femme de charge_, in
order to avert all suspicion from the mind of her victim. "Yes, my dear,
we are going into the country, as you say;" and then added, with a sort
of good-humoured teasing, "But that is not all; before you see Madame
Georges, a little surprise awaits you--Come, come, our coach is waiting
below! Ah, how you will be astonished by and by! Come, then, let us go.
Your most obedient servant, gentlemen!"

And, with a multitude of bows and salutations from Madame Seraphin to
the registrar, his clerk, and all the various members of the
establishment then and there assembled, she descended the stairs with La
Goualeuse, followed by an officer, to command the opening of the gates
through which they had to pass. The last had just closed behind them,
and the two females found themselves beneath the vast porch which looks
out upon the street of the Faubourg St. Denis, when they nearly ran
against a young female, who appeared hurrying towards the prison, as
though full of anxiety to visit one of its inmates. It was Rigolette, as
pretty and light-footed as ever, her charming face set off by a simple
yet becoming cap, tastefully ornamented with cherry-coloured riband;
while her dark brown hair was laid in bright glossy bands down each
clear and finely rounded cheek. She was wrapped in a plaid shawl, over
which fell a snowy muslin collar, secured by a small knot of riban