‘Well, my precious ones!’ exclaimed she, as she entered. ‘Gabriel! come to my shoulder. Where is my angel? I do not see him. Gabrielle, tell me where is the cat, or I perish.’ ‘Madame,’ answered the girl, who had started to her feet on the entrance of the lady, ‘I do not know; I left him in the garden.’ ‘Have you cherished him, and consoled him for my absence?’ ‘Madame, I have done what I could.’ ‘That is right. Oh! it is delightful, now I can leave the house without anxiety. Hitherto I have been torn with fears lest some mischief should befall my angel, whenever I have been absent from home; but now I leave him to you in all confidence. But--what is the matter with you? you have been crying.’ ‘Madame! you have been so good to me, but I cannot remain in this house. I cannot, indeed.’ ‘My dear child, I know that you cannot, and I have this afternoon been to find you a protector, and I have secured you one.’ ‘Who, madame?’ ‘The curé of Bernay.’ ‘Madame,’ faltered the girl, ‘does he know that I am here?’ ‘Yes, child.’ ‘And he will yet receive me?’ ‘I do not know that he will himself receive you, but he has promised to find you a refuge.’ ‘Madame, tell me, does he think evil of me?’ ‘Of you? No; why should he?’ ‘Because, madame, I am in this house.’ ‘Ah, to be sure; that is not to the credit of any young woman; but I have assured him that I stood between you and harm.’ Gabrielle flung herself before Madame Berthier, to clasp her feet; the lady caught her and held her to her heart. ‘You are too good to me,’ the girl sobbed. ‘Oh, madame, how can I ever repay you?’ ‘You will pray for me.’ ‘Ever, ever!’ fervently ejaculated Gabrielle. ‘And for Gabriel, my cat.’ ‘Madame,’ said the girl, clinging to the unfortunate lady, ‘madame, how shall I say it?--but you are yourself in danger.’ ‘I am always in danger,’ said the poor woman. ‘Am not I married to a beast? But tell me, now, what has made you cry whilst I have been out? The beast has not been near you to insult you. If he has,’--she gnashed her teeth; all the softness which had stolen over her strange countenance altering suddenly to an expression of hardness,--‘if he has, I shall draw my knife upon him again. And I should be sorry to do that, because I do not want to make him bleed; I have other designs in my head. Ah! they are secrets: we shall see! perhaps some day we shall be more alike than we are now. Well--’ she seated herself and removed her bonnet and veil--‘well, and how came you to part company with the yellow cat?’ ‘Madame! you are in danger.’