to make up his mind to depart.

He did so, at last, however; but he left slowly and with evident
reluctance. Marie-Anne, remaining in the door, gave him a friendly
gesture of farewell.

"I wish to speak to this creature!" exclaimed Mlle. Blanche. "Come,
aunt, at once!"

Had Marie-Anne, at that moment, been within the reach of Mlle. de
Courtornieu's voice, she would certainly have learned the secret of her
former friend's anger and hatred.

But fate willed it otherwise. At least three hundred yards of rough
ground separated the place where Mlle. Blanche had stationed herself,
from the Lacheneur cottage.

It required a moment to cross this space; and that was time enough to
change all the girl's intentions.

She had not traversed a quarter of the distance before she bitterly
regretted having shown herself at all. But to retrace her steps now was
impossible, for Marie-Anne, who was still standing upon the threshold,
had seen her approaching.

There remained barely time to regain her self-control, and to compose
her features. She profited by it.

She had her sweetest smile upon her lips as she greeted Marie-Anne.
Still she was embarrassed; she did not know what excuse to give for her
visit, and to gain time she pretended to be quite out of breath.

"Ah! it is not very easy to reach you, dear Marie-Anne," she said, at
last; "you live _upon_ the summit of a veritable mountain."

Mlle. Lacheneur said not a word. She was greatly surprised, and she did
not attempt to conceal the fact.

"Aunt Medea pretended to know the road," continued Mlle. Blanche, "but
she led me astray; did you not, aunt?"

As usual, the impecunious relative assented, and her niece resumed:

"But at last we are here. I could not, my dearest, resign myself to
hearing nothing from you, especially after all your misfortunes. What
have you been doing? Did my recommendation procure for you the work you
desired?"

Marie-Anne could not fail to be deeply touched by this kindly interest
on the part of her former friend. So, with perfect frankness, and
without any false shame, she confessed that all her efforts had been
fruitless. It had even seemed to her that several ladies had taken
pleasure in treating her unkindly.

But Mlle. Blanche was not listening. A few steps from her stood the
flowers brought from Sairmeuse; and their perfume rekindled her anger.

"At least," she interrupted, "you have here what will almost make you
forget the gardens