aid, tossing the coin back to her, "one
does not buy good food with lead."

Celia dragged herself out of the shop in despair. She was starving. She
dared not go back to her room. The thought of the concierge at the
bottom of the stairs, insistent for the rent, frightened her. She stood
on the pavement and burst into tears. A few people stopped and watched
her curiously, and went on again. Finally a sergent-de-ville told her
to go away.

The girl moved on with the tears running down her cheeks. She was
desperate, she was lonely.

"I thought of throwing myself into the Seine," said Celia simply, in
telling her story to the Juge d'Instruction. "Indeed, I went to the
river. But the water looked so cold, so terrible, and I was young. I
wanted so much to live. And then--the night came, and the lights made
the city bright, and I was very tired and--and--"

And, in a word, the young girl went up to Montmartre in desperation, as
quickly as her tired legs would carry her. She walked once or twice
timidly past the restaurants, and, finally, entered one of them, hoping
that some one would take pity on her and give her some supper. She
stood just within the door of the supper-room. People pushed past
her--men in evening dress, women in bright frocks and jewels. No one
noticed her. She had shrunk into a corner, rather hoping not to be
noticed, now that she had come. But the novelty of her surroundings
wore off. She knew that for want of food she was almost fainting. There
were two girls engaged by the management to dance amongst the tables
while people had supper--one dressed as a page in blue satin, and the
other as a Spanish dancer. Both girls were kind. They spoke to Celia
between their dances. They let her waltz with them. Still no one
noticed her. She had no jewels, no fine clothes, no chic--the three
indispensable things. She had only youth and a pretty face.

"But," said Celia, "without jewels and fine clothes and chic these go
for nothing in Paris. At last, however, Mme. Dauvray came in with a
party of friends from a theatre, and saw how unhappy I was, and gave me
some supper. She asked me about myself, and I told her. She was very
kind, and took me home with her, and I cried all the way in the
carriage. She kept me a few days, and then she told me that I was to
live with her, for often she was lonely too, and that if I would she
would some day find me a nice, comfortable husband and give me a
marriage portion. So all m