."

"And you were as gay as could be a few minutes ago."

"Yes, I know I was; and it was my thinking how soon--" answered
Fleur-de-Marie, naively, and raising her large, tearful blue eyes, with
touching candour, to his face.

The look, the words, fully enlightened Rodolph as to the cause of her
distress, and, wishing to dissipate it, he said, smilingly:

"I would lay a wager you are regretting your poor rose-tree, and are
crying because you could not bring it out walking with you, as you used
to do."

La Goualeuse fell into the good-natured scheme for regaining her
cheerfulness, and by degrees the clouds of sadness cleared away from her
fair young face; and once again she appeared absorbed in the pleasure of
the moment, without allowing herself to recollect the future that would
succeed it. The vehicle had by this time almost arrived at St. Denis,
and the tall spires of the cathedral were visible.

"Oh, what a fine steeple!" exclaimed La Goualeuse.

"It is that of the splendid church of St. Denis: would you like to see
it? We can easily stop our carriage."

Poor Fleur-de-Marie cast down her eyes. "From the hour I went to live
with the ogress," said she, in a low tone, while deep blushes dyed her
cheek, "I never once entered a church,--I durst not. When in prison, on
the contrary, I used to delight in helping to sing the mass; and,
against the Fete-Dieu, oh, I made such lovely bouquets for the altar!"

"But God is merciful and good; why, then, fear to pray to him, or to
enter his holy church?"

"Oh, no, no, M. Rodolph! I have offended God deeply enough; let me not
add impiety and sacrilege to my sins."

After a moment's silence, Rodolph again renewed the conversation, and,
kindly taking the hand of La Goualeuse, said, "Fleur-de-Marie, tell me
honestly, have you ever known what it is to love?"

"Never, M. Rodolph."

"And how do you account for this?"

"You saw the kind of persons who frequented the _tapis-franc_. And then,
to love, the object should be good and virtuous--"

"Why do you think so?"

"Oh, because one's lover, or husband, would be all in all to us, and we
should seek no greater happiness than devoting our life to him. But, M.
Rodolph, if you please, we will talk of something else, for the tears
will come into my eyes."

"Willingly, Fleur-de-Marie; let us change the conversation. And now tell
me, why do you look so beseechingly at me with those large, tearful
eyes? Have I done anything to