‘_A la bonne fortune, mon cher._ Try again! It only requires perseverance to turn the shadiest luck.’ As I crept back to my bedchamber and prepared myself for rest, I felt very sick and miserable. I knew the world was full of wickedness and sorrow, but I never seemed so fully to have realised it as I did that night; and I wished—oh, so truly!—that I were safe with _her_ wherever she might be, and had finished the bitter task of learning the lesson of life. If I missed her at one time more than another, it was at such moments as these, when I felt confused and stupefied under the shock of discovering more sin and misery in the world than I had thought it capable of containing, and had no bosom to fly to for comfort and reassurance. I hoped that neither Tessie nor Ange would ask to see me again that evening. I wanted to go to bed, and lose in sleep, if possible, the uncomfortable feelings that had taken possession of me. After which, I was not over-pleased, as may be supposed, to hear Madame Marmoret’s voice demanding admittance at my door. ‘You cannot come in, Madame, indeed! It is impossible! I am just about to step into my bed.’ ‘_Eh bien!_ It is no concern of mine. Step into your bed, if it pleases you to do so. But I wish I had not taken the trouble to follow you upstairs, which I should not have done, except for the entreaties of Monsieur le Baron. In my day, a young woman was pleased to be taken notice of, especially if she did not deserve it; but ’tis all the same to me. I will go downstairs again, and tell Monsieur le Baron that you refuse me the entrance to your chamber.’ ‘Monsieur le Baron!’ I repeated in surprise. ‘What on earth has he to do with your being here?’ ‘Ah, I thought I would arouse your curiosity! We may be extremely modest and reserved, and not have a civil word to throw at our inferiors; but the name of a Baron is at all times better than that of a commoner, and likely to command more attention—is it not so?’ ‘Madame Marmoret, if you have a message of any importance for me, please to deliver it at once, and let me go to rest.’ ‘It is no message, then, but a packet, which I have been charged to deliver into your hands; and if you will not take it, I will just lay it in your doorway, and the first foot that comes past may smash it to pieces!’ Aggravated at the woman’s impertinence, and curious to learn what a packet from the Baron could possibly contain for me, I opened the door, and received a small parcel carefully enveloped with paper. ‘Is there no message to be taken back again?’ demanded Madame Marmoret, grinning like a wicked old witch at me. ‘None. I have no idea what the packet can hold.’ ‘Ah, you wish me to believe that, mademoiselle, of course! and when I was paid to deliver it, too! Well, I’ve done my duty, and you can do yours.’ And, with these words and a harsh laugh, Madame took her way downstairs again.