‘Dear friend,’ said the girl, laying her hand on Percenez’ arm; ‘she who saved me in my hour of deepest need, she who stood between me and ruin, is now in that awful place. Her last cry was to me to save her. Tell me, what can I do?’ ‘Nothing, absolutely nothing, except washing up dishes,’ answered Robert Lindet. She did not attend to him, but looked straight into Percenez’ eyes. The girl was so beautiful, so earnest and enthusiastic, that the colporteur gazed on her with admiration, and did not answer. ‘I must do something,’ she proceeded to say; ‘I hear her voice calling me, night and day. That cry of “Gabrielle, save me!” haunts me. I am tortured with inactivity.’ ‘My good girl,’ Robert observed, ‘there is not the slightest occasion for inactivity. There are the floors to be scoured, and the cobwebs to be brushed away, and the dishes to be washed.’ ‘Good, kind master!’ cried the girl, turning to him; ‘you have received me when I was homeless. But did I not tell you that I could not remain in your service? I warned you that I had something to do that must be done----’ ‘Fudge!’ said the lawyer. ‘You women are highflown, crazy creatures. You can do nothing for Madame Berthier; content yourself with the certainty of that, and stick to your kitchen-work, or, if you like it better, feed the rabbits.’ Percenez smiled. A smile on his rugged brown countenance was rare, and it had meaning whenever it appeared. ‘Excuse me, M. Lindet,’ he said; ‘I have faith in enthusiasm. Before that every barrier goes down. It is absolutely unconquerable.’ ‘Enthusiasm is faith run to extravagance,’ answered the lawyer. ‘Enthusiasm is good for a dash, but it is not fit for continuous work. Enthusiasm would level a mountain, but it would never reconstruct it.’ ‘Hark!’ exclaimed Peter, holding up his finger. The others were silent and listened. They heard the bells of S. Cross pealing merrily. ‘What can be the occasion?’ asked Percenez. Peter took his pipe out of his mouth, and walked slowly into the garden. Robert and Stephen followed him. From the high stone wall the clamour of the bells was echoed noisily. ‘It is very odd,’ said Robert; ‘what can be the reason?’ At that moment the garden-door opened, and M. Lamy, one of the curates (_vicaires_) of Bernay, rushed in, his face beaming with pleasure. ‘Well! what is the news?’ asked Percenez. ‘The best, the very best of news,’ answered the priest. ‘M. Thomas Lindet is elected delegate of the clergy to the Estates-general.’ ‘An enthusiast,’ said Robert, with a smile aside to Percenez. ‘Ah! M. Robert, and it is just his enthusiasm which has taken him ahead of all the rest of the class, and turned him into a delegate.’ Whilst Robert and Peter talked with M. Lamy, the little brown colporteur turned back to the kitchen, and said to Gabrielle: ‘Well, what about your protectress?’