ou to recommend poor Louise and Germain to his notice," said
Rigolette, wisely considering that her two protegees would be all the
better for obtaining two protectors instead of one. "And pray say that
they do not in the least deserve their present wretched fate."

"Make yourself perfectly easy," returned Fleur-de-Marie; "I promise to
try to interest M. Rodolph in favour of your poor friends."

"Who did you say?" exclaimed Rigolette, "M. Rodolph?"

"Yes," replied La Goualeuse; "do you know him?"

"M. Rodolph?" again repeated Rigolette, perfectly bewildered; "is he a
travelling clerk?"

"I really don't know what he is. But why are you so much astonished?"

"Because I know a M. Rodolph!"

"Perhaps it is not the same."

"Well, describe yours. What is he like?"

"In the first place, he is young."

"So is mine."

"With a countenance full of nobleness and goodness."

"Precisely," exclaimed Rigolette, whose amazement increased. "Oh, it
must be the very man! Is your M. Rodolph rather dark-complexioned, with
a small moustache?"

"Yes, yes."

"Is he tall and thin, with a beautiful figure, and quite a fashionable,
gentlemanly sort of air,--wonderfully so, considering he is but a clerk?
Now, then, does your M. Rodolph answer to that description?"

"Perfectly," answered Fleur-de-Marie; "and I feel quite sure that we
both mean the same. The only thing that puzzles me is your fancying he
is a clerk."

"Oh, but I know he is. He told me so himself."

"And you know him intimately?"

"Why, he is my next-door neighbour."

"M. Rodolph is?"

"I mean next-room neighbour; because he occupies an apartment on the
fourth floor, next to mine."

"He--M. Rodolph--lodges in the next room to you?"

"Why, yes. But what do you find so astonishing in a thing as simple as
that? He only earns about fifteen or eighteen hundred francs a year,
and, of course, he could not afford a more expensive lodging,--though,
certainly, he does not strike me as being a very careful or economical
person; for, bless his dear heart, he actually does not know the price
of the clothes he wears."

"No, no, it cannot be the same M. Rodolph I am acquainted with," said
Fleur-de-Marie, reflecting seriously; "oh, no, quite impossible!"

"I suppose yours is a pattern of order and exactness?"

"He of whom I spoke, I must tell you, Rigolette," said Fleur-de-Marie,
with enthusiasm, "is all-powerful; his name is never pronounced but with
love and venerati