messenger, for at my patroness's they seemed to laugh at men who followed that calling. I said that you were learning to make money, but that I didn't know how, and Albert answered: 'We will find your brother, and I will love him too.'--Well--so I allowed him to carry me off, to bring me to Paris; I did whatever Albert wanted me to do. Forgive me, Étienne; it was very wicked, I know. But Albert is an honorable man; he will marry me, because he has promised to; I shall be his wife, and then father will forgive me, too, won't he?" Sans-Cravate listened in gloomy and depressed silence to his sister's story; when she ceased to speak, he sat for some time, absorbed in his grief, and seemed to be waiting for her to say something more. But he suddenly pushed her away, sprang to his feet, and began to pace the floor, crying: "So this is how these fine young men behave, whose errands we do for them! Ah! I deserve what has happened; yes, I have been doing wrong for a long time, I too am becoming a ne'er-do-well, I allow myself to be tempted to gamble and drink, and I forget my old home, and my father and family! And now, this fine gentleman who pays me so generously, this excellent customer who is always so free with his money, gives me another big fee--and for what? to help him hide my sister, whom he has abducted and dishonored! Ah! _crédié!_ my hands itch!" "Oh! brother, don't be angry. Perhaps Albert doesn't know that you are my brother." "Oh! no, indeed he don't know it! if he had, you may be sure he wouldn't have come for me. And then, you told him that your brother's name was Étienne, and everyone here calls me Sans-Cravate. But heaven has permitted me to find you in Paris; for, do you see, Liline, I am here now, and your seducer must undo the wrong he has done, or I'll kill him on the spot!" "Oh! my dear brother, don't have such horrible thoughts! Why should you suppose that Albert has deceived me? As he told me that I should be his wife, he will certainly marry me!" "Marry you! Poor girl; with all the fine things you learned at Clermont, you are still very ignorant! you don't know that these young Parisian dandies take pleasure in deceiving women who are weak enough to listen to them--yes, and are proud of it; that they have three or four mistresses at once; that they fall in love with every pretty face they see." "Oh! mon Dieu, brother! do you think Albert is like that?"