the end of her first year of banishment to this
apartment, had gauged every depth of misfortune.

"Still, even here my Hector has made my life much handsomer than it
should be for a mere peasant," said she to herself. "He chooses that it
should be so; his will be done! I am Baroness Hulot, the sister-in-law
of a Marshal of France. I have done nothing wrong; my two children are
settled in life; I can wait for death, wrapped in the spotless veil of
an immaculate wife and the crape of departed happiness."

A portrait of Hulot, in the uniform of a Commissary General of the
Imperial Guard, painted in 1810 by Robert Lefebvre, hung above the
work-table, and when visitors were announced, Adeline threw into
a drawer an _Imitation of Jesus Christ_, her habitual study. This
blameless Magdalen thus heard the Voice of the Spirit in her desert.

"Mariette, my child," said Lisbeth to the woman who opened the door,
"how is my dear Adeline to-day?"

"Oh, she looks pretty well, mademoiselle; but between you and me, if she
goes on in this way, she will kill herself," said Mariette in a whisper.
"You really ought to persuade her to live better. Now, yesterday madame
told me to give her two sous' worth of milk and a roll for one sou; to
get her a herring for dinner and a bit of cold veal; she had a pound
cooked to last her the week--of course, for the days when she dines
at home and alone. She will not spend more than ten sous a day for her
food. It is unreasonable. If I were to say anything about it to Monsieur
le Marechal, he might quarrel with Monsieur le Baron and leave him
nothing, whereas you, who are so kind and clever, can manage things----"

"But why do you not apply to my cousin the Baron?" said Lisbeth.

"Oh, dear mademoiselle, he has not been here for three weeks or more; in
fact, not since we last had the pleasure of seeing you! Besides, madame
has forbidden me, under threat of dismissal, ever to ask the master for
money. But as for grief!--oh, poor lady, she has been very unhappy. It
is the first time that monsieur has neglected her for so long. Every
time the bell rang she rushed to the window--but for the last five days
she has sat still in her chair. She reads. Whenever she goes out to see
Madame la Comtesse, she says, 'Mariette, if monsieur comes in,' says
she, 'tell him I am at home, and send the porter to fetch me; he shall
be well paid for his trouble.'"

"Poor soul!" said Lisbeth; "it goes to my heart. I speak of