The commissaire proceeded, with a hasty hand, as if he wished to get the
work quickly over, to ransack drawers and boxes. Whenever one or the
other had been searched in vain, he clapped his hand to his breast and
muttered: 'God be thanked!' and appeared as if his mind were in some
measure relieved of a burden which oppressed it. At length he arrived at
Julia's chamber--here, as elsewhere, drawers and boxes seemed to present
no signs of the object sought for: the thanksgivings of the commissaire
were frequent; his cheerfulness appeared to be returning. Presently,
however, he proceeded to turn out the contents of Julia's little
reticule-basket: first came a pocket-handkerchief, on the corners of
which flowers had been wrought by Julia's needle. 'Very pretty!'
remarked the commissaire. Then appeared a number of slips of rare
plants, recently collected. 'Ah! you are a botanist?' said the
commissaire.

'They are from the conservatory of the Comte Meurien, at the château: I
meant to have planted them to-day,' said Julia.

'Who gave them to you?'

'Mme Lavine, the _femme de chambre_.'

'Ah, _diable_! I hope you have nothing else from that château?'

'I have nothing else,' replied Julia, blushing, and somewhat
discomposed, as she remembered Victor.

'What is the matter?--why are you agitated?' demanded the commissaire,
regarding her fixedly.