on; there is something awe-inspiring in his very
aspect, giving one the desire to kneel in his presence and offer humble
respect to his goodness and greatness."

"Ah, then, it is no use trying the comparison any further, my dear
Goualeuse; for my M. Rodolph is neither powerful, great, nor imposing.
He is very good-natured and merry, and all that; but oh, bless you, as
for being a person one would be likely to go on one's knees to, why, he
is quite the reverse. He cares no more for ceremony than I do, and even
promised me to come and help me clean my apartment and polish the floor.
And then, instead of being awe-inspiring, he settled with me to take me
out of a Sunday anywhere I liked to go. So that, you see, he can't be a
very great person. But, bless you, what am I thinking of? It seems as if
my heart were wholly engrossed by my Sunday pleasures, instead of
recollecting these poor creatures shut up and deprived of their liberty
in a prison. Ah, poor dear Louise--and poor Germain, too! Until they are
restored to freedom there is no happiness for me!"

For several minutes Fleur-de-Marie remained plunged in a deep reverie;
she all at once recalled to her remembrance that, at her first interview
with Rodolph, at the house of the ogress, his language and manners
resembled those of the usual frequenters of the _tapis-franc_. Was it
not, then, possible that he might be playing the part of the travelling
clerk, for the sake of some scheme he had in view? The difficulty
consisted in finding any probable cause for such a transformation. The
grisette, who quickly perceived the thoughtful meditation in which
Fleur-de-Marie was lost, said, kindly:

"Never mind puzzling your poor brains on the subject, my dear Goualeuse;
we shall soon find out whether we both know the same M. Rodolph. When
you see yours, speak of me to him; when I see mine, I will mention you;
by these means we shall easily discover what conclusion to come to."

"Where do you live, Rigolette?"

"No. 17 Rue du Temple."

"Come!" said Madame Seraphin (who had attentively listened to all this
conversation) to herself, "that is not a bad thing to know. This
all-powerful and mysterious personage, M. Rodolph, who is, no doubt,
passing himself off for a travelling clerk, occupies an apartment
adjoining that of this young mantua-maker, who appears to me to know
much more than she chooses to own to; and this defender of the
oppressed, it seems, is lodging in the same ho