my rose-tree lived at least ten
days longer than it would have done, had I not taken such pains with
it."

"No doubt of it. But when it died, what a loss it must have been to
you!"

"I cried heartily, for it grieved me very, very much; and you see, M.
Rodolph,--for you know one loves flowers, although one hasn't any of
one's own,--you see, I felt grateful to it, that dear rose-tree, for
blooming so kindly for me, although I was so--"

Goualeuse bent her head, and blushed deeply.

"Unhappy child! With this feeling of your own position, you must
often--"

"Have desired to end it, you mean, sir?" said Goualeuse, interrupting
her companion. "Yes, yes, more than once. A month ago I looked over the
parapet at the Seine; but then, when I looked at the flowers, and the
sun, then I said, 'The river will be always there; I am but sixteen and
a half,--who knows?'"

"When you said 'who knows,' you had hope?"

"Yes."

"And what did you hope?"

"To find some charitable soul who would get me work, so that I might be
enabled to leave the ogress; and this hope comforted me. Then I said to
myself, I am very wretched, but I have never injured anybody, and if I
had any one to advise me I should not be as I am. This lightened my
sorrow a little, though it had greatly increased at the loss of my
rose-tree," added Goualeuse, with a sigh.

"Always so very sad."

"Yes; but look, here it is."

And Goualeuse took from her pocket a little bundle of wood trimmed very
carefully, and tied with a rose-coloured bow.

"What, have you kept it?"

"I have, indeed; it is all I possess in the world."

"What, have you nothing else?"

"Nothing."

"This coral necklace?"

"Belongs to the ogress."

"And you have not a piece of riband, a cap, or handkerchief?"

"No, nothing,--nothing but the dead branches of my poor rose-tree; and
that is why I love it so."

When Rodolph and Goualeuse had reached the Quai aux Fleurs, a coach was
waiting there, into which Rodolph handed Goualeuse. He got in himself,
saying to the driver:

"To St. Denis; I will tell you presently which road to take."

The coach went on. The sun was bright, and the sky cloudless, whilst the
air, fresh and crisp, circulated freely through the open windows.

"Here is a woman's cloak!" said Goualeuse, remarking that she had seated
herself on the garment without having at first noticed it.

"Yes, it is for you, my child; I brought it with me for fear you should
be col