men in the world, as timid and gentle as any young girl
could be, and whom I loved as a friend and a brother."

"Oh, then, of course, his troubles became yours also."

"To be sure. But just let me show you what a good heart he must have.
When I was coming away, I asked him as usual what orders he had for me,
saying jokingly, by way of making him smile, that I was his little
housekeeper, and that I should be very punctual and exact in fulfilling
whatever commissions he gave me, in order to remain in his employ. So
then he, trying to smile in his turn, asked me to bring him one of
Walter Scott's romances, which he had formerly read to me while I
worked,--that romance was called 'Ivan--' 'Ivanhoe,' that's it. I was so
much amused with this book that Germain read it twice over to me. Poor
Germain! How very, very kind and attentive he was!"

"I suppose he wished to keep it as a reminiscence of bygone days?"

"No doubt of it; for he bade me go to the library from whence we had had
it, and to purchase the very same volumes that had so much entertained
us, and which we had read together,--not merely to hire them,--yes,
positively to buy them out and out; and you may imagine that was
something of a sacrifice for him, for he is no richer than you or I."

"He must have a noble and excellent heart to have thought of it," said
the Goualeuse, deeply touched.

"I declare you are as much affected by it as I was, my dear, kind
Goualeuse! But then, you see, the more I felt ready to cry, the more I
tried to laugh; for, to shed tears twice during a visit, intended to be
so very cheering and enlivening as mine was, was rather too bad. So, to
drive all those thoughts out of my head, I began to remind him of the
amusing story of a Jew,--a person we read about in the romance I was
telling you of. But the more I rattled away, and the greater nonsense I
tried to talk, the faster the large round tears gathered in his eyes,
and he kept looking at me with such an expression of misery as quite
broke my heart. And so--and so--at last my voice quite failed me, and I
could do nothing but mingle my sobs with his. He had not regained his
composure when I left him, and I felt quite provoked with myself for my
folly. 'If that is the way,' said I,'that I comfort and cheer up poor
Germain, I think I had better stay away!' Really, when I remember all
the fine things I intended to have said and done, by way of keeping up
his spirits, I feel quite spitefu