But Frédérique! That she should look coldly on me because I had busied myself in behalf of a young woman who was in trouble surprised me, I admit. She was kind-hearted herself; why was she unwilling that other people should have that good quality? I was tempted for a moment to go to her; but I reflected that it would be almost equivalent to asking her forgiveness for doing a kind action without her leave. I felt that I must retain my dignity. So much the worse for those who see evil everywhere and in everything! All this reflection and hesitation detained me at home much later than usual, and the day was far advanced when I arrived at Rue Ménilmontant. Madame Potrelle was not in her lodge, which was deserted. I hastened upstairs; but my heart was oppressed by a melancholy presentiment: was the poor child worse? When I reached Mignonne's room, I found there, besides the unhappy mother, the doctor, the concierge, and a neighbor. Mignonne was weeping and calling her daughter; at last she fell back on her chair, speechless and motionless. "Little Marie is no more," said the doctor, in a low voice; "she died only a minute ago, after a slight convulsion. The child could not recover; I knew it all along; but the poor mother will not have it that she is dead. Still, we must take her away." Poor mother! poor child! I had arrived too late! I could not have prevented that catastrophe, and yet I was deeply grieved that I had delayed so long. The old concierge leaned over Mignonne and burst into tears; the other woman did the same. I walked to the cradle and looked in. Poor little girl! the last struggle had gone gently with her, for her face was not changed; on the contrary, it seemed that with death she had found peace and rest, that she was happy in having ceased to suffer. Her sweet face seemed to smile; I stooped to kiss the forehead of that angel who had made so brief a sojourn on earth. Mignonne, who was apparently absorbed by her grief, when she saw me, sprang to her feet, pushed the doctor away, and came to me, crying: "Here you are! here you are! How late you have come! But you will make her drink, won't you? You will bring the dear child back to life; for she isn't dead! oh, no! God has not taken my daughter away from me! Here, here, take her; why don't you make her drink? Open her lips; you see that she doesn't cry, that she doesn't refuse!" And she stooped over to lift the child, covering her with tears and kisses. Then she suddenly uttered a loud shriek and pressed her to her heart. "Cold! cold!" she cried. "Why is that? Warm her, monsieur, warm her, I say! You can see that she is dying!" It was a heartrending scene. Even the doctor could not restrain his tears. But luckily Mignonne lost consciousness. We took advantage of that moment to carry her away, the doctor and I. The neighbor who was present lived on the same street, two houses away; she offered to take the young mother in and keep her as long as her condition required.