THE CONSULTATION.
It is night.It has just struck nine.It is the evening of that day on which Mdlle.de Cardoville first found herself in the presence of Djalma.
Florine, pale, agitated, trembling, with a candle in her hand, had just entered a bedroom, plainly but comfortably furnished.This room was one of the apartments occupied by Mother Bunch, in Adrienne's house.They were situated on the ground-floor, and had two entrances.One opened on the garden, and the other on the court-yard.From this side came the persons who applied to the workgirl for succor; an ante-chamber in which they waited, a parlor in which they were received, constituted Mother Bunch's apartments, along with the bedroom, which Florine had just entered, looking about her with an anxious and alarmed air, scarcely touching the carpet with the tips of her satin shoes, holding her breath, and listening at the least noise.
Placing the candle upon the chimney-piece, she took a rapid survey of the chamber, and approached the mahogany desk, surmounted by a well-filled bookcase.The key had been left in the drawers of this piece of furniture, and they were all three examined by Florine.They contained different petitions from persons in distress, and various, notes in the girl's handwriting.This was not what Florine wanted.Three cardboard boxes were placed in pigeon-holes beneath the bookcase.These also were vainly explored, and Florine, with a gesture of vexation, looked and listened anxiously; then, seeing a chest of drawers, she made therein a fresh and useless search.Near the foot of the bed was a little door, leading to a dressing-room.Florine entered it, and looked--at first without success--into a large wardrobe, in which were suspended several black dresses, recently made for Mother Bunch, by order of Mdlle.de Cardoville.Perceiving, at the bottom of this wardrobe, half hidden beneath a cloak, a very shabby little trunk, Florine opened it hastily, and found there, carefully folded up, the poor old garments in which the work-girl had been clad when she first entered this opulent mansion.
Florine started--an involuntary emotion contracted her features; but considering that she had not liberty to indulge her feelings, but only to obey Rodin's implacable orders, she hastily closed both trunk and wardrobe, and leaving the dressing-room, returned into the bed-chamber.
After having again examined the writing-stand, a sudden idea occurred to her.Not content with once more searching the cardboard boxes, she drew out one of them from the pigeon-hole, hoping to find what she sought behind the box: her first attempt failed, but the second was more successful.She found behind the middle box a copy-book of considerable thickness.She started in surprise, for she had expected something else;
yet she took the manuscript, opened it, and rapidly turned over the leaves.After having perused several pages, she manifested her satisfaction, and seemed as if about to put the book in her pocket; but after a moment's reflection, she replaced it where she had found it, arranged everything in order, took her candle, and quitted the apartment without being discovered--of which, indeed, she had felt pretty sure, knowing that Mother Bunch would be occupied with Mdlle.de Cardoville for some hours.
The day after Florine's researches, Mother Bunch, alone in her bed-
chamber, was seated in an arm-chair, close to a good fire.A thick carpet covered the floor; through the window-curtains could be seen the lawn of a large garden; the deep silence was only interrupted by the regular ticking of a clock, and the crackling of the wood.Her hands resting on the arms of the chair, she gave way to a feeling of happiness, such as she had never so completely enjoyed since she took up her residence at the hotel.For her, accustomed so long to cruel privations, there was a kind of inexpressible charm in the calm silence of this retreat--in the cheerful aspect of the garden, and above all, in the consciousness that she was indebted for this comfortable position, to the resignation and energy she had displayed, in the thick of the many severe trials which now ended so happily.An old woman, with a mild and friendly countenance, who had been, by express desire of Adrienne, attached to the hunchback's service, entered the room and said to her:
"Mademoiselle, a young man wishes to speak to you on pressing business.
He gives his name as Agricola Baudoin."
At this name, Mother Bunch uttered an exclamation of surprise and joy, blushed slightly, rose and ran to the door which led to the parlor in which was Agricola.
"Good-morning, dear sister," said the smith, cordially embracing the young girl, whose cheeks burned crimson beneath those fraternal kisses.
"Ah, me!" cried the sempstress on a sudden, as she looked anxiously at Agricola; "what is that black band on your forehead? You have been wounded!"
"A mere nothing," said the smith, "really nothing.Do not think of it.I will tell you all about that presently.But first, I have things of importance to communicate."
"Come into my room, then; we shall be alone," Mother Bunch, as she went before Agricola.
Notwithstanding the expression of uneasiness which was visible on the countenance of Agricola, he could not forbear smiling with pleasure as he entered the room and looked around him.
"Excellent, my poor sister! this is how I would always have you lodged.
I recognize here the hand of Mdlle.de Cardoville.What a heart! what a noble mind!--Dost know, she wrote to me the day before yesterday, to thank me for what I had done for her, and sent me a gold pin (very plain), which she said I need not hesitate to accept, as it had no other value but that of having been worn by her mother! You can't tell how much I was affected by the delicacy of this gift!"
"Nothing must astonish you from a heart like hers," answered the hunchback."But the wound--the wound?"