"Ah! what do I hear? The cherubim descend, then, from heaven, as is written
in the church books," said Jeanne Duport, trembling, and scarcely daring to
look at her benefactress. "Why so much goodness for me? How have I deserved
this? It cannot be possible! I leave the hospital, where I have wept so
much, suffered so much! not leave my children any more! have a nurse! why,
it is a miracle from above!"

And the poor woman spoke the truth. If one only knew how sweet and easy it
is to perform often, and at a small expense, such miracles! Alas! for those
poor unfortunates, abandoned and repulsed on all sides--an instantaneous,
unhoped-for assistance, accompanied by benevolent words of consideration,
tenderly commiserative, may easily wear the supernatural appearance of a
miracle.

"It is not a miracle, my good mother," answered Clemence, much affected;
"that which I do for you," added she, slightly blushing at the recollection
of Rudolph, "that which I do for you is inspired by a generous being, who
has taught me to relieve the unfortunate; it is he whom you must bless and
thank."

"Ah! madame! I shall bless you and yours," said Jeanne Duport, weeping. "I
ask your pardon for expressing myself so badly. I am not accustomed to such
great joy; it is the first time it has happened to me."

"Well! do you see, Jeanne," said La Lorraine, weeping, "there are also
among the sick some Rigolettes and Goualeuses--on a large scale, it is
true; but as to the good heart, it is the same thing!"

Lady d'Harville turned toward La Lorraine, much surprised at hearing her
pronounce these two names.