by its side. With a complacent sense of rest
settling upon me, I drowsily looked about at the dim magnificence of
loneliness which surrounded me. The night-lamp made more shadow than
shine; but even by its obscured rays one who had known the old place
would have been struck with the wonderful improvement we had made. So
I thought. It was almost like a palace, gilded, and mirrored, and hung
with silken curtains. Monsieur and I had thriven together, had worked
hard and saved much these many years to produce the change. But the
change had been, as everything we effected was, well considered, and
had proved very profitable in the end. Better reception-rooms brought
better customers; higher prices a higher class of patronage. It
was very pleasant, lying there, to reflect that we were actually
succeeding in the world; and a pleasant and quiet mood fell upon me,
as, hopeful of the future, I looked back at the past. I thought of my
old days in that saloon; I thought of little Jacques. Little Jacques
was still a thought of some horror to me, and I generally avoided any
allusion to him. But to-night, in this subdued and contemplative mood,
I even let the little phantom glide into my reverie without being
startled. I even speculated on the old theme which had so haunted
me. I wondered whether my suspicions had been correct, and
whether--whether Madame C---- was guilty of sending her little son
before her into the other world. So thinking,--I might have been
almost dreaming,--a slight rustle in the shop aroused me. I was not
alarmed; my nerves are now much healthier, and I wisely make a point
of not getting them unstrung by violent movements, or unaccustomed
feats of activity, when anything astonishing happens. I therefore
lifted my head calmly and looked about,--it might be a mouse. The
noise ceased that instant, as if the intruder were aware of being
observed. Mice sometimes have this instinct. We had some valuable
new confections, which I had no desire should be disposed of by such
customers. So, taking up my lamp, and peering cautiously about me, I
proceeded to the shop. The light flickered,--flickered on something
tall and white,--something white and shadowy, standing erect,
and shrinking aside, behind the counter. My heart stood still;
a sepulchral chill came over me. My old self, trembling,
angry, foreboding, stepped suddenly within the niche whence the
self-confident, full-grown, sensible woman had vanished utterly. For
an