t their door.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

SOOTHING WORDS.

During the interview of Adrienne with Rose-Pompon a touching scene took
place between Agricola and Mother Bunch, who had been much surprised at
Mdlle. de Cardoville's condescension with regard to the grisette.
Immediately after the departure of Adrienne, Agricola had knelt down
beside Mother Bunch, and said to her, with profound emotion: "We are
alone, and I can at length tell you what weighs upon my heart. This act
is too cruel--to die of misery and despair, and not to send to me for
assistance."

"Listen to me, Agricola--"

"No, there is no excuse for this. What! we called each other by the names
of brother and sister, and for fifteen years gave every proof of sincere
affection--and, when the day of misfortune comes, you quit life without
caring for those you must leave behind--without considering that to kill
yourself is to tell them they are indifferent to you!"

"Forgive me, Agricola! it is true. I had never thought of that," said the
workgirl, casting down her eyes; "but poverty--want of work--"

"Misery! want of work! and was I not here?"

"And despair!"

"But why despair? This generous young lady had received you in her house;
she knew your worth, and treated you as her friend--and just at the
moment when you had every chance of happiness, you leave the house
abruptly, and we remain in the most horrible anxiety on your account."

"I feared--to be--to be a burden to my benefactress," stammered she.

"You a burden to Mdlle. de Cardoville, that is so rich and good!"

"I feared to be indiscreet," said the sewing-girl, more and more
embarrassed.

Instead of answering his adopted sister, Agricola remained silent, and
contemplated her for some moments with an undefinable expression; then he
exclaimed suddenly, as if replying to a question put by himself: "She
will forgive me for disobeying her.--I am sure of it."

He next turned towards Mother Bunch, who was looking at him in
astonishment, and said to her in a voice of emotion: "I am too frank to
keep up this deception. I am reproaching you--blaming you--and my
thoughts are quite different."

"How so, Agricola?"

"My heart aches, when I think of the evil I have done you."

"I do not understand you, my friend; you have never done me any evil."

"What! never? even in little things? when, for instance, yielding to a
detestable habit, I, who loved and respected you as my sister, insulted
you a hu