Poor Geneviève nearly fainted when she received this note, which was conveyed to her by a footman wearing my livery. She could not imagine to whom she was indebted for procuring her such exalted patronage, and she and her family spent the intervening hours before her appointed interview in a thousand conjectures on the subject. On Monday, punctually at two o'clock, she was at the hotel dressed in her best, her lovely countenance setting off the humble style of even her holiday garb. She knew me the instant she saw me; and, in the frank simplicity of her own heart imagining she could judge of mine, she ran to me, and threw herself into my arms, exclaiming, "Oh, my dear Jeannette, what pleasure does it afford me to meet you again. Oh! I see how it is; you are the friend of the comtesse du Barry, and it is to you I shall owe my future good fortune, as I do this present mark of her favor." "No, my good Geneviève," cried I, weeping for joy, "she who now embraces you is the comtesse du Barry." After we had a little recovered ourselves, I took my friend by the hand, and led her to a sofa, where we seated ourselves side by side. Returning to the scenes of our early youth, I related to Geneviève all that had occurred since--my adventures, faults, and favour. When I had concluded my recital, Geneviève commenced hers, but it was soon told. There is little to relate in the life of a woman who has passed her days in the virtuous discharge of her duties. Our mutual confidences being over, and having again exchanged a most affectionate embrace, I put into the hands of my companion a portfolio, containing 30,000 livres in bank bills. I promised her likewise to obtain for her some lucrative situation. "Do more than this for me!" cried Geneviève. "Since you will still grant me your friendship, secure for me the happiness of occasionally meeting you. I can with truth declare, that of all your proofs of kindness and regard, that which I prefer is the pleasure of seeing you."