thickly mantled the stonework, and the chequered verdure, which only
left glimpses of the blue sky above, made the light very soft and
greeny. Halfway down Helene would stop to take breath, gazing at the
street-lamp which hung there, and listening to the merry laughter in
the gardens, whose doors she had never seen open. At times an old
woman panted up with the aid of the black, shiny, iron handrail fixed
in the wall to the right; a lady would come, leaning on her parasol as
on a walking-stick; or a band of urchins would run down, with a great
stamping of feet. But almost always Helene found herself alone, and
this steep, secluded, shady descent was to her a veritable delight
--like a path in the depths of a forest. At the bottom she would raise
her eyes, and the sight of the narrow, precipitous alley she had just
descended made her feel somewhat frightened.

She glided into the old woman's room with the quiet and coolness of
the Passage des Eaux clinging to her garments. This woefully wretched
den no longer affected her painfully. She moved about there as if in
her own rooms, opening the round attic window to admit the fresh air,
and pushing the table into a corner if it came in her way. The
garret's bareness, its whitewashed walls and rickety furniture,
realized to her mind an existence whose simplicity she had sometimes
dreamt of in her girlhood. But what especially charmed her was the
kindly emotion she experienced there. Playing the part of sick nurse,
hearing the constant bewailing of the old woman, all she saw and felt
within the four walls left her quivering with deep pity. In the end
she awaited with evident impatience Doctor Deberle's customary visit.
She questioned him as to Mother Fetu's condition; but from this they
glided to other subjects, as they stood near each other, face to face.
A closer acquaintance was springing up between them, and they were
surprised to find they possessed similar tastes. They understood one