"To be sure!" exclaimed Mother Fetu, again all excitement. "People
ought to have confidence in him. Why, he brought a boy to life again
when he was going to be buried! Oh, there aren't two persons like him;
you won't stop me from saying that! I am very lucky; I fall in with
the pick of good-hearted people. I thank the gracious Lord for it
every night. I don't forget either of you. You are mingled together in
my prayers. May God in His goodness shield you and grant your every
wish! May He load you with His gifts! May He keep you a place in
Paradise!"

She was now sitting up in bed with hands clasped, seemingly entreating
Heaven with devout fervor. Helene allowed her to go on thus for a
considerable time, and even smiled. The old woman's chatter, in fact,
ended by lulling her into a pleasant drowsiness, and when she went off
she promised to give her a bonnet and gown, as soon as she should be
able to get about again.

Throughout that week Helene busied herself with Mother Fetu. Her
afternoon visit became an item in her daily life. She felt a strange
fondness for the Passage des Eaux. She liked that steep lane for its
coolness and quietness and its ever-clean pavement, washed on rainy
days by the water rushing down from the heights. A strange sensation
thrilled her as she stood at the top and looked at the narrow alley
with its steep declivity, usually deserted, and only known to the few
inhabitants of the neighboring streets. Then she would venture through
an archway dividing a house fronting the Rue Raynouard, and trip down
the seven flights of broad steps, in which lay the bed of a pebbly
stream occupying half of the narrow way. The walls of the gardens on
each side bulged out, coated with a grey, leprous growth; umbrageous
trees drooped over, foliage rained down, here and there an ivy plant