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       "She understands it?" "No."

       "One may then speak plainly in her presence?" "Doubtless."

       He gazed steadily. "Do you need her services?"

       "I could do with them. You know I am disgusted with Madame Svini."

       Still he scrutinized. The judgment, when it at last came, was as indefinite as what had gone before it.

       "Engage her. If good predominates in that nature, the action will bring its own reward; if evil--eh bien! ma cousine, ce sera toujours une bonne oeuvre." And with a bow and a "bon soir," this vague arbiter of my destiny vanished.

       And Madame did engage me that very night--by God's blessing I was spared the necessity of passing forth again into the lonesome, dreary, hostile street.

       CHAPTER VIII. MADAME BECK.

       Being delivered into the charge of the maitresse, I was led through a long narrow passage into a foreign kitchen, very clean but very strange. It seemed to contain no means of cooking--neither fireplace nor oven; I did not understand that the great black furnace which filled one corner, was an efficient substitute for these. Surely pride was not already beginning its whispers in my heart; yet I felt a sense of relief when, instead of being left in the kitchen, as I half anticipated, I was led forward to a small inner room termed a "cabinet." A cook in a jacket, a short petticoat and sabots, brought my supper: to wit--some meat, nature unknown, served in an odd and acid, but pleasant sauce; some chopped potatoes, made savoury with, I know not what: vinegar and sugar, I think: a tartine, or slice of bread and butter, and a baked pear. Being hungry, I ate and was grateful.

       After the "priere du soir," Madame herself came to have another look at me. She desired me to follow her upstairs. Through a series of the queerest little dormitories--which, I heard afterwards, had once been nuns' cells: for the premises were in part of ancient date--and through the oratory--a long, low, gloomy room, where a crucifix hung, pale, against the wall, and two tapers kept dim vig-ils--she conducted me to an apartment where three children were asleep in three tiny beds. A heated stove made the air of this room oppressive; and, to mend matters, it was scented with an odour rather strong than delicate: a perfume, indeed, altogether surprising and unexpected under the circumstances, being like the combination of smoke with some spirituous essence--a smell, in short, of whisky.

       Beside a table, on which flared the remnant of a candle guttering to waste in the socket, a coarse woman, heterogeneously clad in a broad striped showy silk dress, and a stuff apron, sat in a chair fast asleep. To complete the picture, and leave no doubt as to the state of matters, a bottle and an empty glass stood at the sleeping beauty's elbow.

       Madame contemplated this remarkable tableau with great calm; she neither smiled nor scowled; no impress of anger, disgust, or surprise, ruffled the equality of her grave aspect; she did not even wake the woman! Serenely pointing to a fourth bed, she intimated that it was to be mine; then, having extinguished the candle and substituted for it a night-lamp, she glided through an inner door, which she left ajar--the entrance to her own chamber, a large, well-furnished apartment; as was discernible through the aperture.

       My devotions that night were all thanksgiving. Strangely had I been led since morning--unexpectedly had I been provided for. Scarcely could I believe that not forty-eight hours had elapsed since I left London, under no other guardianship than that which protects the passenger-bird--with no prospect but the dubious cloud-tracery of hope.

       I was a light sleeper; in the dead of night I suddenly awoke. All was hushed, but a white figure stood in the room--Madame in her

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