ome! it works--it works!"

CHAPTER XLV.

THE CONSULTATION.

It is night. It has just struck nine. It is the evening of that day on
which Mdlle. de Cardoville first found herself in the presence of Djalma.
Florine, pale, agitated, trembling, with a candle in her hand, had just
entered a bedroom, plainly but comfortably furnished. This room was one
of the apartments occupied by Mother Bunch, in Adrienne's house. They
were situated on the ground-floor, and had two entrances. One opened on
the garden, and the other on the court-yard. From this side came the
persons who applied to the workgirl for succor; an ante-chamber in which
they waited, a parlor in which they were received, constituted Mother
Bunch's apartments, along with the bedroom, which Florine had just
entered, looking about her with an anxious and alarmed air, scarcely
touching the carpet with the tips of her satin shoes, holding her breath,
and listening at the least noise.

Placing the candle upon the chimney-piece, she took a rapid survey of the
chamber, and approached the mahogany desk, surmounted by a well-filled
bookcase. The key had been left in the drawers of this piece of
furniture, and they were all three examined by Florine. They contained
different petitions from persons in distress, and various, notes in the
girl's handwriting. This was not what Florine wanted. Three cardboard
boxes were placed in pigeon-holes beneath the bookcase. These also were
vainly explored, and Florine, with a gesture of vexation, looked and
listened anxiously; then, seeing a chest of drawers, she made therein a
fresh and useless search. Near the foot of the bed was a little door,
leading to a dressing-room. Florine entered it, and looked--at first
without success--into a large wardrobe, in which were suspended several
black dresses, recently made for Mother Bunch, by order of Mdlle. de
Cardoville. Perceiving, at the bottom of this wardrobe, half hidden
beneath a cloak, a very shabby little trunk, Florine opened it hastily,
and found there, carefully folded up, the poor old garments in which the
work-girl had been clad when she first entered this opulent mansion.

Florine started--an involuntary emotion contracted her features; but
considering that she had not liberty to indulge her feelings, but only to
obey Rodin's implacable orders, she hastily closed both trunk and
wardrobe, and leaving the dressing-room, returned into the bed-chamber.
After having again examin