this most painful
farewell."

And Rodolph rejoined the lapidary and his daughter.

However strange and painful Morel's determination might appear, it was
really the only thing that, under the circumstances, could be done. The
magistrate consented to await the issue of this conversation in
Rigolette's chamber; the Morel family were occupying Rodolph's
apartment, and there was only the garret at liberty; and it was into
this horrid retreat that Louise, her father, and Rodolph betook
themselves. Sad and affecting sight!

In the middle of the attic which we have already described, there lay,
stretched on the idiot's mattress, the body of the little girl who had
died in the morning, now covered by a ragged cloth. The unusual and
clear light, reflected through the narrow skylight, threw the figures of
the three actors in this scene into bold relief. Rodolph, standing up,
was leaning with his back against the wall, deeply moved. Morel, seated
at the edge of his working-bench, with his head bent, his hands hanging
listless by his sides, whilst his gaze, fixed and fierce, rested on, and
did not quit, the mattress on which the remains of his poor little Adele
were deposited. At this spectacle, the anger and indignation of the
lapidary subsided, and were changed to inexpressible bitterness; his
energy left him, and he was utterly prostrated beneath this fresh blow.
Louise, who was ghastly pale, felt her strength forsake her. The
revelation she was about to make terrified her. Still she ventured,
tremblingly, to take her father's hand,--that miserable and shrivelled
hand, withered and wasted by excess of toil. The lapidary did not
withdraw it, and then his daughter, sobbing as if her heart would burst,
covered it with kisses, and felt it slightly pressed against her lips.
Morel's wrath had ended, and then his tears, long repressed, flowed
freely and bitterly.

"Oh, father, if you only knew!" exclaimed Louise; "if you only knew how
much I am to be pitied!"

"Oh, Louise, this, this will be the heaviest bitter in my cup for the
rest of my life,--all my life long," replied the lapidary, weeping
terribly. "You, you in prison,--in the same bench with criminals; you so
proud when you had a right to be proud! No," he resumed in a fresh burst
of grief and despair, "no; I would rather have seen you in your shroud
beside your poor little sister!"

"And I, I would sooner be there!" replied Louise.

"Be silent, unhappy girl, you pain m