of Rodolph. "And you, my child, what can I do for you?" she
said to Lorraine; "I could wish that the names you pronounce with so
much gratitude should also bring you good fortune."

"Thank you, madame," said Lorraine, with a smile of bitter resignation.
"I had a child, it is dead; I am in a decline and past all hope."

"What a gloomy idea! At your age there is always hope."

"Oh, no, madame, I saw a consumptive patient die last night. Yet as you
are so good, a great lady like you must be able to do anything."

"Tell me, what do you wish?"

"Since I have seen the actress who is dead so distressed at the idea of
being cut in pieces after her death, I have the same fear. Jeanne had
promised to claim my body, and have me buried."

"Ah, this is horrible!" said Clemence, shuddering. "Be tranquil,
although I hope the time is far distant, yet, when it comes, be assured
that your body shall rest in holy ground."

"Oh, thank you--thank you, madame!" exclaimed Lorraine. "Might I beg to
kiss your hand?"

Clemence presented her hand to the parched lips of Lorraine.

Half an hour afterwards, Madame d'Harville, who had been painfully
affected by Lorraine's condition, accompanied by M. de Saint-Remy, took
with her the young orphan, from whom she concealed her mother's death.

The same day, Madame d'Harville's man of business, after having obtained
favourable particulars respecting Jeanne Duport's character, hired for
her some large and airy rooms, and the same evening she was conveyed to
her new residence, where she found her children and a nurse. The same
individual was instructed to claim and inter the body of Lorraine when
she died. After having conveyed Mlle. de Fermont to her own house,
Madame d'Harville started for Asnieres with M. de Saint-Remy, in order
to go to Fleur-de-Marie, and take her to Rodolph.

CHAPTER V.

HOPE.

Spring was approaching, and already the sun darted a more genial warmth,
the sky was blue and clear, while the balmy air seemed to bring life and
breath upon its invigorating wings. Among the many sick and suffering
who rejoiced in its cheering presence was Fleur-de-Marie, who, leaning
on the arm of La Louve, ventured to take gentle exercise in the little
garden belonging to Doctor Griffon's house; the vivifying rays of the
sun, added to the exertion of walking, tinged the pale, wasted
countenance of La Goualeuse with a faint glow that spoke of returning
convalescence. The dress she had