"

And, thus re-assured, he rapidly mounted up to the fifth story; but
there Mrs. Chevassat suddenly barred his way, coming down stairs in a
manner which showed clearly that she had lain in wait for him.

"Well, my dear sir," she said with her sweetest manner: "so you have
become Miss Henrietta's banker?"

"Yes; do you object to it?"

"Oh, not at all! It is none of my business, only"--

She stopped, smiling wickedly, and then added,--

"Only she is a prodigiously pretty girl; and I was just saying to
myself, 'Upon my word, M. Ravinet's taste is not bad.'"

The merchant was on the point of giving her a pretty sharp, indignant
reply; but he controlled himself, because he knew how important it was
to mislead the woman; and, forcing himself to smile, he said,--

"You know I count upon your being discreet."

When he got up, he found that he ought, at least, to give credit to
Mamma Chevassat and the two ladies from the first floor, for having
employed their time well, and for having skilfully made use of the
articles he had contributed. The room, a short time ago cold and bare,
had an air of comfort about it now, which was delightful. On the
bureau stood a lamp with a shade to prevent the light from hurting the
patient's eyes; a bright fire blazed on the hearth; several old curtains
had been hung before the window, one before the other, to replace for
the time the missing panes; and on the table stood a teakettle, a china
cup, and two small medicine-bottles.

Evidently the doctor had been here during Ravinet's absence. He had
bled the poor girl, prescribed some medicines, and left again, with the
assurance that nothing more was needed but perfect quiet.

In fact, there was no trace left of the sufferings and the terrible
danger from which the patient had so marvellously escaped, except the
deep pallor of her face. Stretched out at full-length on her comfortable
bed with its thick mattresses and snow-white sheets, her head propped
up high on a couple of pillows, she was breathing freely, as was easily
seen by the steady, regular rising and falling of her bosom under the
cover.

But life and consciousness had also brought back to her a sense of the
horror of her position, and of her capacity for suffering.

Her brow resting on her arm, which was almost concealed by masses of
golden hair, immovable, and her eyes fixed steadily upon infinite space,
as if trying to pierce the darkness of the future, she would have l