confinement is probably the most cruel--the mind feeding on itself with
the rapacity of a cormorant, when the conscience quickens its activity
and feeds its longings. Happily for Adrienne, she had too many positive
cares, to be enabled to waste many minutes either in retrospection, or in
endeavors to conjecture the future. Far--far more happily for herself,
her conscience was clear, for never had a purer mind, or a gentler spirit
dwelt in female breast. Still she could blame her own oversight, and it
was days before her self-upbraidings, for thus trifling with what she
conceived to be the resources of her beloved grandmother, were driven
from her thoughts by the pressure of other and greater ills.

Were I to last a thousand years, and rise to the dignity of being the
handkerchief that the Grand Turk is said to toss toward his favorite, I
could not forget the interest with which I accompanied Adrienne to the
door of her little apartment, in the entresol. She was in the habit of hiring
little Nathalie, the porter's daughter, to remain with her grandmother
during her own necessary but brief absences, and this girl was found at
the entrance, eager to be relieved.

"Has my grandmother asked for me, Nathalie?" demanded Adrienne,
anxiously, the moment they met.

"Non, mademoiselle; madame has done nothing but sleep, and I was
getting SO tired!"

The sou was given, and the porter's daughter disappeared, leaving
Adrienne alone in the ante-chamber. The furniture of this little apartment
was very respectable, for Madame de la Rocheaimard, besides paying
a pretty fair rent, had hired it just after the revolution, when the prices
had fallen quite half, and the place had, by no means, the appearance of