The two women, suffering as they were from the pangs of hunger, scarcely looked at each other, but sat rapidly feasting their eyes on the food yet untasted, with a wild, eager craving which made them forgetful of everything else. All at once, Marguerite started up in absolute dismay. “Oh, mamma! we have forgotten the good Monsieur Jacques, who all this time has no breakfast.” “True, my child! and he so thoughtful of us!” Marguerite went to Monsieur Jacques’ room, and knocked eagerly. “It is ready; we have a delicious omelet, my friend. Come, come! there is enough for three!” Jacques came to the door and opened it a little. His face was flushed, his eyes sparkled. “Do you really invite me?” he questioned. “Invite you! Why our little feast is yours.” “Wait a minute, then, while I wash my hands; perhaps madame will excuse the dress, as I have no other.” “Come in any dress. We are waiting, and the breakfast gets cold.” Marguerite came back to her mother, and they placed the omelet near the fire, that it might be kept warm for their guest. He came in soon after, with his face shining, and his hair smooth, as if he had spent some time in brushing it. His blouse was clean, and he looked more respectable than they had seen him the night before. But the good man partook sparingly of madame’s omelet, and sat gazing upon Marguerite when he should have been eating. The sweet girl knew that he was half-famished, and tempted him to eat, until the animal instinct in him became ravenous, and for the moment, he forgot that she was near him. Then the noble fellow grew ashamed of himself, and drew back abashed. Without appearing to heed this, Madame Gosner began to talk, and told Jacques of Dame Doudel’s generous visit, and of the proposal she had made for Marguerite. Jacques received the intelligence calmly, but cast anxious glances at the young girl, who looked from him to her mother with affright. “I fear she will not consent,” he said, seized with compunction for the part he had taken, when he saw the color driven from Marguerite’s face. “Yes, yes,” gasped the girl. “It is work, it is food! Who am I to put such blessings aside? Heaven forgive me if, for one moment, I hesitate!” “Heaven has nothing to forgive its angels,” muttered Jacques, in a voice so faint and deep that no one heard him. Madame Gosner leaned over the table, and, her heart being full of the subject, began questioning Jacques very closely about the state of things in the city. She was earnest, clear, and searching in her interrogatories. He saw that some grand idea was in her brain, and answered her without comment.