ker's. On a gloomy
December morning, I was turned out of my room, and left on the
pavement with a ten-cent-piece for my fortune.

"Never had I been so low; and I know not to what extremities I might
have come at last, when I happened to think of that wealthy lady
whose horses had upset me on the Boulevard. I had kept her card.
Without hesitation, I went unto a grocery, and calling for some
paper and a pen, I wrote, overcoming the last struggle of my pride,

"'Do you remember, madame, a poor girl whom your carriage came near
crushing to death? Once before she applied to you, and received no
answer. She is to-day without shelter and without bread; and you
are her supreme hope.'

"I placed these few lines in an envelope, and ran to the address
indicated on the card. It was a magnificent residence, with a vast
court-yard in front. In the porter's lodge, five or six servants
were talking as I came in, and looked at me impudently, from head
to foot, when I requested them to take my letter to Mme. de Thaller.
One of them, however, took pity on me,

"'Come with me,' he said, 'come along!'

"He made me cross the yard, and enter the vestibule; and then,

"'Give me your letter,' he said, 'and wait here for me.'"

Maxence was about to express the thoughts which Mme. de Thaller's
name naturally suggested to his mind, but Mlle. Lucienne interrupted
him,

"In all my life," she went on, "I had never seen any thing so
magnificent as that vestibule with its tall columns, its tessellated
floor, its large bronze vases filled with the rarest flowers, and
its red velvet benches, upon which tall footmen in brilliant livery
were lounging.

"I was, I confess, somewhat intimidated by all of this splendor; and
I remained awkwardly standing, when suddenly the servants stood up
respectfully.

"A door had just opened, through which appeared a man already past
middle age, tall, thin, dressed in the extreme of fashion, and
wearing long red whiskers falling over his chest."

"The Baron de Thaller," murmured Maxence.

Mlle. Lucienne took no notice of the interruption.

"The attitude of the servants," she went on, "had made me easily
guess that he was the master. I was bowing to him, blushing and
embarrassed, when, noticing me, he stopped short, shuddering from
head to foot.

"'Who are you?' he asked me roughly.

"I attributed his manner to the sad condition of my dress, which
appeared more miserable and more dilapidated still