She knew now what meant the duties of the household, the heavy work of the kitchen. Her pretty hands soon lost all semblance of the care of bygone days. She washed the soiled linen and dried it in her room. She went every morning to the street with the refuse of the kitchen, carrying the water, stopping at each flight of stairs to take breath--wearing the dress of the women of the people; she went each day to the grocer, the fruiterer, the butcher, carrying her basket on her arm, bargaining, defending cent by cent her miserable money. They were obliged each month to pay some notes and renew others in order to gain time. Her husband worked in the evening balancing the books of merchants, and often was busy all night, copying at five cents a page. And this life they endured for ten years. At the end of this time they had paid all the tax of the usurers and compound interest. Madame Loisel seemed an old woman now. She had become strong and hardy as the women of the provinces, and with tousled head, short skirts, red hands, she was foremost among the loud-voiced women of the neighborhood, who passed their time gossiping at their doorsteps. But sometimes when her husband was at his office she seated herself at the window and thought of that evening in the past and that ball, where she had been so beautiful and so admired. What would have happened if she had not lost the necklace? Who knows? Life is a singular and changeable thing, full of vicissitudes. How little it takes to save or wreck us! * * * * * One Sunday as she was walking in the Champs Elysées to divert herself from the cares and duties of the week she suddenly perceived a lady, with a little child, coming toward her. It was Madame Forestier, still young, beautiful and charming. Madame Loisel stopped short, too agitated to move. Should she speak to her? Yes, certainly. And now that the necklace was paid for she would tell her everything. Why not? She walked up to her and said: "Good day, Jeanne." Madame Forestier did not recognize her and seemed astonished at being spoken to so familiarly by this woman of the people. "But--madame--I do not--I think you are mistaken." "No; I am Mathilde Loisel." "Oh!--my poor Mathilde, how you are changed!" "Yes; I have had lots of trouble and misery since last I saw you--and all for you." "For me! And how was that?" "Do you remember the necklace of diamonds you lent me, to wear to the Minister's ball?" "Yes; well?" "Well, I lost it." "Lost it! How could you, since you returned it to me?" "I returned you one just like it, and for ten years we have been paying for it. You know, it was not easy for us, who had nothing--but it is finished, and I am very happy." "You say that you bought a necklace of diamonds to replace mine," said Madame Forestier. "Yes; and you never found it out! They were so much alike," and she smiled proudly.