are interested in. Come, explain your position toward each other."

"In one word," said she.

The poor child quaked at the priest's stern tone, but as a woman
quakes who has long ceased to be surprised at brutality.

"Lucien is Lucien," said she, "the handsomest young man, the kindest
soul alive; if you know him, my love must seem to you quite natural. I
met him by chance, three months ago, at the Porte-Saint-Martin
theatre, where I went one day when I had leave, for we had a day a
week at Madame Meynardie's, where I then was. Next day, you
understand, I went out without leave. Love had come into my heart, and
had so completely changed me, that on my return from the theatre I did
not know myself: I had a horror of myself. Lucien would never have
known. Instead of telling him what I was, I gave him my address at
these rooms, where a friend of mine was then living, who was so kind
as to give them up to me. I swear on my sacred word----"

"You must not swear."

"Is it swearing to give your sacred word?--Well, from that day I have
worked in this room like a lost creature at shirt-making at twenty-
eight sous apiece, so as to live by honest labor. For a month I have
had nothing to eat but potatoes, that I might keep myself a good girl
and worthy of Lucien, who loves me and respects me as a pattern of
virtue. I have made my declaration before the police to recover my
rights, and submitted to two years' surveillance. They are ready
enough to enter your name on the lists of disgrace, but make every
difficulty about scratching it out again. All I asked of Heaven was to