floor of this house--a grated window, still more remarkable by the sort
of tent-like awning above it--beheld a young female, with her eyes fixed
upon the convent, making signs with her hand, at once encouraging and
affectionate. From the window where she stood, Mother Bunch could not see
to whom these signs were addressed; but she admired the rare beauty of
the telegrapher, the brilliancy of her complexion, the shining blackness
of her large eyes, the sweet and benevolent smile which lingered on her
lips. There was, no doubt, some answer to her graceful and expressive
pantomime, for, by a movement full of elegance, the girl laid her left
hand on her bosom, and waved her right, which seemed to indicate that her
heart flew towards the place on which she kept her eyes. One faint
sunbeam, piercing the clouds, came at this moment to play with the
tresses of the pale countenance, which, now held close to the bars of the
window, was suddenly, as it were, illuminated by the dazzling reflection
of her splendid golden hair. At sight of that charming face, set in its
admirable frame of red curls, Mother Bunch started involuntarily; the
thought of Mdlle. de Cardoville crossed her mind, and she felt persuaded
(nor was she, indeed, mistaken), that the protectress of Agricola was
before her. On thus beholding, in that gloomy asylum, this young lady, so
marvellously beautiful, and remembering the delicate kindness with which
a few days before she had received Agricola in her luxurious little
palace of dazzling splendor, the work-girl felt her heart sink within
her. She believed Adrienne insane; and yet, as she looked attentively at
her, it seemed as if intelligence and grace animated that adorable
countenance. Suddenly, Mdlle. de Cardoville laid her fingers upon her
lips, blew a couple of kisses in the direction towards which she had been
looking, and all at once disappeared. Reflecting upon the important
revelations which Agricola had to make to Mdlle. de Cardoville, Mother
Bunch regretted bitterly that she had no means of approaching her; for
she felt sure that, if the young lady were mad, the present was a lucid