child, I've never been so happy. Come, come, and see your
room." And while they crossed several scantily-furnished apartments,
Madame de Fondege continued: "It is I who ought to apologize to you. I
fear you will pine for the splendors of the Hotel de Chalusse. We
are not millionaires like your poor father. We have only a modest
competence, no more. But here we are!"

The maid had opened a door, and Mademoiselle Marguerite entered a
good-sized room lighted by two windows, hung with soiled wall paper, and
adorned with chintz curtains, from which the sun had extracted most of
the coloring. Everything was in disorder here, and in fact, the whole
room was extremely dirty. The bed was not made, the washstand was dirty,
some woollen stockings were hanging over the side of the rumpled bed,
and on the mantel-shelf stood an ancient clock, an empty beer bottle,
and some glasses. On the floor, on the furniture, in the corners,
everywhere in fact, stumps of cigars were scattered in profusion, as if
they had positively rained down.

"What!" gasped Madame de Fondege, "you haven't put this room in order,
Justine?"

"Indeed, madame, I haven't had time."

"But it's more than a month since M. Gustave slept here?"

"I know it; but madame must remember that I have been very much hurried
this last month, having to do all the washing and ironing since the
laundress----"

"That's sufficient," interrupted Madame de Fondege. And turning to
Marguerite, she said: "You will, I am sure, excuse this disorder, my
dear child. By this time to-morrow the room shall be transformed into
one of those dainty nests of muslin and flowers which young girls
delight in."

Connected with this apartment, which was known to the household as the
lieutenant's room, there was a much smaller chamber lighted only by a
single window, and originally intended for a dressing-room. It had two
doors, one of them communicating with Marguerite's room, and the
other with the passage; and it was now offered to Madame Leon, who
on comparing these quarters with the spacious suite of rooms she had
occupied at the Hotel de Chalusse, had considerable difficulty in
repressing a grimace. Still she did not hesitate nor even murmur. M. de
Valorsay's orders bound her to Marguerite, and she deemed it fortunate
that she was allowed to follow her. And whether the marquis succeeded or
not, he had promised her a sufficiently liberal reward to compensate
for all personal discomfort. So,