CHAPTER FIVE. The happy holidays passed all too soon away, and it was not till the very last of them that Frederica went with her bundle of papers to the office of Mr St. Cyr. "Mama could write a note and send Dixen, of course," said she to Theresa. "But in a matter so troublesome every care should be taken, and I shall go myself." She almost wished she had not, however, when she reached his house. The outer door was standing open, and instead of ascending a step or two as to most other houses in the street, one went down a step to the threshold, and when that was passed, the dark and gloomy hall looked not at all inviting to Frederica's eyes. It was too late to think of running away now, however, and she sat down in the dingy outer office to wait till her name was taken in to Mr St. Cyr. Her courage revived when he came out to her; for he welcomed her warmly, and asked her into his private office with great ceremony, quite as if she had been a grownup young lady, she told Theresa afterwards. He took the papers, which the made haste to present as an excuse for her coming, and examined them carefully for a minute or two. He nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders, and said mademoiselle should have no more trouble with them, unless he were much mistaken. And then Frederica knew that the right thing for her to do would be to rise and thank him, and go away. But she did not. She sat looking round the dim room upon the numberless shelves and drawers and pigeon-holes, and then through the dusty window into a narrow court shut in by high Walls--as dismal a place as one could imagine. Her eyes were very grave when they came back again to Mr St. Cyr's face. "Well, my little cousin, what do you think of it all?" asked he. "Do you live here always, Mr St. Cyr?" "Yes; here by day, and upstairs at night." "And do you live alone? Have you no one else in this house?" "I have old Babette, whom you saw at the door." "And no one else?" "Is not that enough?" "And has there never been any one else? And are you happy here?" asked Frederica, wonder struggling with the gravity in her face. "Ah, well! as to that--like the rest of the world, I suppose," said Mr St. Cyr, with his wonderful shrug; but there came a look of pain over his face that startled the little girl, and made her wish that she had gone away before, so she rose hastily, and said,-- "Adieu--and--pardon me, Cousin Cyprien." "To meet soon, my little cousin," said he, bowing over her offered hand, "as if I were quite grown up," thought Frederica again, in the midst of her confusion. He went with her through the outer room and through the dim hall to the street door, and then a new thought seemed to strike him.