her to Paris, where she could be taught the trade of making flowers.
Three months later her husband died, and she herself, being delicate in
health, was obliged to leave the city and to go to her brother's, the
tanner Rabier, who was settled at Beaumont. She, alas! died in the early
days of December, and confided to her sister-in-law the little girl,
who since that time had been injured, beaten, and, in short, suffered
martyrdom.

"The Rabiers?" said Hubert. "The Rabiers? Yes, yes! They are tanners on
the banks of the Ligneul, in the lower town. The husband is lame, and
the wife is a noted scold."

"They treated me as if I came from the gutter," continued Angelique,
revolted and enraged in her mortified pride. "They said the river was
the best place for me. After she had beaten me nearly to death, the
woman would put something on the floor for me to eat, as if I were a
cat, and many a time I went to bed suffering from hunger. Oh! I could
have killed myself, at last!" She made a gesture of furious despair.

"Yesterday, Christmas morning, they had been drinking, and, to amuse
themselves, they threatened to put out my eyes. Then, after a while,
they began to fight with each other, and dealt such heavy blows that I
thought they were dead, as they both fell on the floor of their room.
For a long time I had determined to run away. But I was anxious to have
my book. Maman Nini had often said, in showing it to me: 'Look, this is
all that you own, and if you do not keep this you will not even have a
name.' And I know that since the death of Maman Theresa they had hid
it in one of the bureau drawers. So stepping over them as quietly as
possible, while they were lying on the floor, I got the book, hid it
under my dress-waist, pressing it against me with my arm. It seemed so