that at last, one day, instead of repeating my accustomed phrase, I sat on a doorstep all the time, and returned in the evening empty-handed. My mother beat me so that the next day I fell ill; then my poor father, deprived of all resources, was obliged to go to the Hôtel Dieu, where he died."
"Oh! what a horrible history," cried the ladies.
"What became of you after your father's death?" asked the elder lady.
"God took pity upon me a month after my father's death, my mother ran away with a soldier, abandoning my brother and me. We felt ourselves relieved by her departure, and lived on public charity, although we never begged for more than enough to eat. One day, I saw a carriage going slowly along the Faubourg Saint Marcel. There were four footmen behind, and a beautiful lady inside; I held out my hand to her for charity. She questioned me, and my reply and my name seemed to strike her with surprise. She asked for my address, and the next day made inquiries, and finding that I had told her the truth, she took charge of my brother and myself; she placed my brother in the army, and me with a dressmaker."
"Was not this lady Madame de Boulainvilliers?"
"It was."
"She is dead, I believe?"
"Yes; and her death deprived me of my only protector."
"Her husband still lives, and is rich."
"Ah, madame, it is to him that I owe my later misfortunes. I had grown tall, and, as he thought, pretty, and he wished to put a price upon his benefits which I refused to pay. Meanwhile, Madame de Boulainvilliers died, having first married me to a brave and loyal soldier, M. de la Motte, but, separated from him, I seemed more abandoned after her death than I had been after that of my father. This is my history, madame, which I have shortened as much as possible, in order not to weary you."
"Where, then, is your husband?" asked the elder lady.
"He is in garrison at Bar-sur-Aube; he serves in the gendarmerie, and is waiting, like myself, in hopes of better times."
"But you have laid your case before the court?"
"Undoubtedly."
"The name of Valois must have awakened some sympathy."
"I know not, madame, what sentiments it may have awakened, for I have received no answer to any of my petitions."
"You have seen neither the ministers, the king, nor the queen?"
"No one. Everywhere I have failed."
"You cannot now beg, however."
"No, madame; I have lost the habit; but I can die of hunger, like my poor father."
"You have no child?"
"No, madame; and my husband, by getting killed in the service of his king, will find for himself a glorious end to all our miseries."
"Can you, madame – I beg pardon if I seem intrusive – but can you bring forward the proofs of your genealogy?"
Jeanne rose, opened a drawer, and drew out some papers, which she presented to the lady, who rose to come nearer the light, that she might examine them; but seeing that Jeanne eagerly seized this opportunity to observe her more clearly than she had yet been able to do, she turned away as if the light hurt her eyes, turning her back to Madame de la Motte.
"But," said she, at last, "these are only copies."
"Oh! madame, I have the originals safe, and am ready to produce them."
"If any important occasion should present itself, I suppose?" said the lady, smiling.
"It is, doubtless, madame, an important occasion which procures me the honor of your visit, but these papers are so precious – "
"That you cannot show them to the first comer. I understand you."
"Oh, madame!" cried the countess; "you shall see them;" and opening a secret drawer above the other, she drew out the originals, which were carefully inclosed in an old portfolio, on which were the arms of the Valois.
The lady took them, and after examining them, said, "You are right; these are perfectly satisfactory, and you must hold yourself in readiness to produce them when called upon by proper authority."
"And what do you think I may expect, madame?" asked Jeanne.
"Doubtless a pension for yourself, and advancement for M. de la Motte, if he prove worthy of it."
"My husband is an honorable man, madame, and has never failed in his military duties."
"It is enough, madame," said the lady, drawing her hood still more over her face. She then put her hand in her pocket, and drew out first the same embroidered handkerchief with which we before saw her hiding her face when in the sledge, then a small roll about an inch in diameter, and three or four in length, which she placed on the chiffonier, saying, "The treasurer of our charity authorizes me, madame, to offer you this small assistance, until you shall obtain something better."
Madame de la Motte threw a rapid glance at the little roll. "Three-franc pieces," thought she, "and there must be nearly a hundred of them; what a boon from heaven."
While she was thus thinking, the two ladies moved quickly into the outer room, where Clotilde had fallen asleep in her chair.
The candle was burning out in the socket, and the smell which came from it made the ladies draw out their smelling-bottles. Jeanne woke Clotilde, who insisted on following them with the obnoxious candle-end.
"Au revoir, Madame la Comtesse," said they.
"Where may I have the honor of coming to thank you?" asked Jeanne.
"We will let you know," replied the elder lady, going quickly down the stairs.
Madame de la Motte ran back into her room, impatient to examine her rouleau, but her foot struck against something, and stooping to pick it up, she saw a small flat gold box.
She was some time before she could open it, but having at last found the spring, it flew open and disclosed the portrait of a lady possessing no small beauty. The coiffure was German, and she wore a collar like an order. An M and a T encircled by a laurel wreath ornamented the inside of the box. Madame de la Motte did not doubt, from the resemblance of the portrait to the lady who had just left her, that it was that of her mother, or some near relation.
She ran to the stairs to give it back to them; but hearing the street-door shut, she ran back, thinking to call them from the window, but arrived there only in time to see a cabriolet driving rapidly away. She was therefore obliged to keep the box for the present, and turned again to the little rouleau.
When she opened it, she uttered a cry of joy, "Double louis, fifty double louis, two thousand and four hundred francs!" and transported at the sight of more gold than she had ever seen before in her life, she remained with clasped hands and open lips. "A hundred louis," she repeated; "these ladies are then very rich. Oh! I will find them again."
CHAPTER IV.
BELUS
Madame de la Motte was not wrong in thinking that the cabriolet which she saw driving off contained the two ladies who had just left her.
They had, in fact, found it
