canvas and muslin, patterns and wool,
beads, barley-sugar, and rolls flavoured
with orange-flowers. A glass of
sugar-and-water was half a franc.

Finally, there was a House of Retreat for
the reception of elderly ladies. Candidates
for this required neither a pedigree nor the
smallest "De" of noblesse before their
names. Hard cash, rich farms, eligible
landed property, spread a varnish over the
most vulgar patronymic. Such ladies were
petted like fattening chickens, according
to the extent of their fortune and their
liberality. They were relieved of every
care and anxiety, even of the trouble of
receiving their rents and managing their
property. Moreover, they were guaranteed
the privilege of a godly death. Families
must be very selfish and irreligious if they
make any complaints at such an arrangement.
What better use can be made of
money than to insure in this world a quiet
life, and in the next the joys of paradise?

At a time when Madame Ludivine's funds
were running short, one of these ladies, a
Mademoiselle St. Chéron, adroitly inveigled
into the house, arrived so very opportunely
as to be styled the providential boarder.
A lay sister, Henriette, had formerly been
her servant; and her old mistress, whose
temper was so bad that no femme de
chambre would stay with her, wanted to
get her back again. Madame Ludivine,
aware of this by reading her letters, one
day said to Sister Henriette, "You must
go and see that lady, my child. Her
attachment to you is really touching. You
will make her understand that you cannot
leave the house, but if she came here you
would be completely at her disposal. She
complains of being robbed and ill-treated.
Here she would have nobody to vex her.
We would take the greatest care of her,
and do all in our power to consult her
wishes. Make her fully sensible of that,
and try to bring us this excellent lady."

"Excellent!" said the lay sister. "Not
exactly, ma mère. She has not the slightest
shadow of religion, but smokes like a
dragoon and swears like a waggoner."

"We will convert her. Has she any
fortune?"

"Bonté de Dieu! I think she has
indeed. If madame had only half of it,
she would finish her new buildings easily
enough."

Madame Ludivine smiled, licking her
lips. Her thoughts wandered to the old
lady's cashbox. Sister Henriette was sent
on her errand, and must have proved a
skilful negotiator. She brought back her
former mistress in triumph—carriage,
horses, furniture, and all. Amongst the
latter, the lay sisters said, was a pretty keg
filled with five-franc pieces.

The first time that Mademoiselle St.
Chéron appeared in chapel, there was a
movement of curiosity, which was not
repressed by any one of the sisters. She was
a crook-backed, short old woman, with a
masculine and worn-looking head. Armed
with a binocle, she cast around her searching
and defiant glances. Her prayer-book
lay open on her knees; she let it fall
several times; Sister Henriette picked it
up. Everything in her gestures and manner
betrayed something worse than mere
vulgarity. Madame Ludivine kept her promise
of allowing this precious acquisition the
full benefit of Henriette; but the latter
was always assisted in her duties by a
shrewd and insinuating nun called Madame
Anna.

One evening, an old lay sister, half an
idiot, told Sister X. that she was designated
to replace Madame Anna as Mademoiselle
St. Chéron's companion. The order
surprised Sister X., and, in fact, the lay sister
had confounded her name with that of
another nun. She obeyed, little suspecting
that this mistake would prove the turning
point of her destiny.

It was supper time when she reached the
ladies' quarter and was introduced to an
apartment decorated with Parisian luxury.
Then she saw huddled in the corner of a
sofa, a heap of bright silks, surmounted
with a pile of flowers and lace, in the midst
of which was the St. Chéron's visage. She
was playing with an Italian greyhound,
and did not pay the slightest attention to
the new comer. Henriette pulled Sister X.
back, and, taking her aside, said, "This
is your first visit; have you had your
instructions?"

"No, good sister."

"Astonishing! You have received no
hints for your guidance?"

"I was only told that the mother
superior ordered me to replace Madame Anna,
who has a headache. That is all I know
about it."

The bell was rung with violence:
Henriette ran in. Sister X. remained at the
door, not knowing whether she ought to
enter or not.

"Am I to go without my dinner
today?" screamed the angry lady. "What
are you prating about with Anna?"

"Madame," said the lay sister, "your