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 chateau: 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 chateau?' '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. 'It is nothing,' said poor Julia, much distressed by his stern and scrutinising look. 'Nothing? I fear it is something! Alas! I begin to lose hope.' 'Hope of what?' asked Julia wonderingly. 'Of your innocence!' replied the commissaire sternly. 'Mon Dieu! What do you mean?' 'Ah, restez tranquille, pauvre demoiselle; nous verrons toute-suite.' And with a shrug, he continued his investigation of the contents of the reticule-basket. It contained a great variety of little knick-knacks, which, with much patience, the commissaire turned out and examined, one by one. At length he came to a little parcel, the paper-envelope of which appeared to be part of an old letter, and was thickly covered with writing. It was one of Victor's letters. Julia blushed again. 'What have we here?' demanded the constable. 'I forget what there is inside,' said Julia. 'I hardly knew it was there.' 'Let us see.' He opened two or three wrappers--the portion of the letter formed the outside one, the others being blank white paper--and there fell out, descending upon the table with a sharp jingle, a pair of gold bracelets, ornamented with pearls and turquoises, a superb coral necklace, and a diamond ring.