what would become of them, where they should find another
situation, and if it would prove a good one. Not knowing what to
do, they talked together in subdued voices, each suggesting some
remedy he had heard spoken of for such cases. The more sensible
among them were proposing to go and inform mademoiselle or Madame
Leon, whose rooms were on the floor above, when the rustling of a
skirt against the door suddenly made them turn. The person whom
they called "mademoiselle" was standing on the threshold.

Mademoiselle Marguerite was a beautiful young girl, about twenty
years of age. She was a brunette of medium height, with big
gloomy eyes shaded by thick eyebrows. Heavy masses of jet-black
hair wreathed her lofty but rather sad and thoughtful forehead.
There was something peculiar in her face--an expression of
concentrated suffering, and a sort of proud resignation, mingled
with timidity.

"What has happened?" she asked, gently. "What is the cause of all
the noise I have heard? I have rung three times and the bell was
not answered."

No one ventured to reply, and in her surprise she cast a hasty
glance around. From where she stood, she could not see the bed
stationed in an alcove; but she instantly noted the dejected
attitude of the servants, the clothing scattered about the floor,
and the disorder that pervaded this magnificent but severely
furnished chamber, which was only lighted by the lamp which M.
Bourigeau, the concierge, carried. A sudden dread seized her; she
shuddered, and in a faltering voice she added: "Why are you all
here? Speak, tell me what has happened."