expression of despair haunted her for several hours.
Upon her return she saw a great crowd of people in her street. All the portresses were at their street doors, telling some story, to which their neighbours listened with a lively interest. The mob was especially dense in front of a house near to the one inhabited by Madame de Piennes herself. All eyes were turned toward an open window at the third story, and in each little group one or two arms were raised to point it out to public notice; then suddenly the arms dropped, and all eyes followed the movement. Some extraordinary thing had happened.
Passing through her antechamber, Madame de Piennes found her frightened servants, each one pressing toward her, eager to relate the exciting news of the neighbourhood. But before she could ask a single question her maid cried:
"Oh! madam!—if madam knew!" And opening the doors with incredible swiftness, she followed her mistress into the holy of holies—in other words, her dressing-room, which was inaccessible to the rest of the household.
"Ah! madam," said Mademoiselle Josephine, as she was removing the shawl of Madame
