“An exile and a beggar!--Oh, you are jesting now, Victoire--or--envious. With that sanctified face, citoyenne--perhaps I should say Mademoiselle Victoire, you would be delighted to change places with me this instant. Come, you shall stay with me a week, to try how you like it.” “Excuse me,” said Victoire, firmly; “I cannot stay with you, Manon--you have chosen one way of life, and I another--quite another. I do not repent my choice--may you never repent yours!--Farewell!” “Bless me! what airs! and with what dignity she looks! Repent of my choice!--a likely thing, truly. Am not I at the top of the wheel?” “And may not the wheel turn?” said Victoire. “Perhaps it may,” said Manon; “but till it does I will enjoy myself. Since you are of a different humour, return to Mad. Feuillot, and _figure_ upon cambric and muslin, and make out bills, and nurse old nuns, all the days of your life. You will never persuade me, however, that you would not change places with me if you could. Stay till you are tried, Mademoiselle Victoire. Who was ever in love with you, or your virtues?--Stay till you are tried.” CHAPTER XV. “But beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree, Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye To save her blossoms, or defend her fruit.” MILTON. The trial was nearer than either Manon or Victoire expected. Manon had scarcely pronounced the last words, when the ci-devant hairdresser burst into the room, accompanied by several of his political associates, who met to consult measures for the good of the nation. Among these patriots was the Abbé Tracassier. “Who is that pretty girl who is with you, Manon?” whispered he; “a friend of yours, I hope?”