By great exertions, and by working all night through, I reduced the affairs of the family to a condition of order; and when Monsieur le Monnier's clerk appeared in the morning, I had already compiled the inventory and drawn up the “acte de décès,” as it is called, for the authorities. By searching amongst papers I also found the address of the widow's father, who lived in the village of “Linange,” and to him I wrote a few lines, acquainting him with what had occurred, and asking his counsel with regard to the family. Though Lizette had accompanied them from their native village to Paris, she was greatly indisposed to afford any information as to their circumstances or condition in life, and seemed only eager to complete all the formalities of the law and quit the capital. I certainly did not impose any unfair burden upon her incommunicative disposition. I asked a few questions,--none that were not in a measure indispensable. I suppose my reserve in this wise impressed her favorably, for she grew gradually more and more open, dropping hints of sad circumstances and calamities, in a way that seemed half to invite inquiry on my part. I was resolved, however, not to make any advances, and left her entirely to her own choice as to what revelations she might make me. I have no doubt that had my object been to gratify my curiosity, I could not have hit upon any surer means of success. We laid the remains of poor Bernois in a little graveyard outside the Porte St. Denis; Lizette and myself the only mourners that followed the bier! As I slowly ascended the stairs towards my room, I said,-- “Come to me this evening, Lizette, and say if I can be of any further service to you, since I mean to leave Paris to-morrow.” “To leave Paris!” cried she; “Grand Dieu!--why, and for where?” “For Switzerland,” replied I. “My friends there have not answered my letters for some time back, and I have determined to set off and see them.” “But why not write again? Think of what a journey it is!” “I have written till I have lost all hope. I must satisfy myself by going in person.” “But you will not leave us helpless, friendless, as we are!” cried she. Never till that moment had it occurred to me that my assistance could avail to any one, or that there existed one in the world humble enough to be benefited by my guidance. The appeal, however, gave me a self-confidence and an energy which I had not felt before, and I listened to the explanations of the old servant with every desire to aid her. She judged rightly enough that as soon as removal were possible, the safest course would be for the widow and her daughter to return to their village. “I know,” added she, “that this is not to be effected without difficulty. 'Madame' will oppose it to the last; and it may be that nothing short of force will accomplish it.”