"My child, this is where I stop; I can't take you any further. But here you are in Paris, and the best part of it is that the rain has stopped; indeed I believe that the weather is going to be fine again; it wouldn't surprise me. I will help you down, for you must have limbered up by now, haven't you? My wagon always produces that effect. Come, lean on me--that's the way! You see, there's Faubourg du Temple in front of you, and the boulevard's at the end of it. That's the way you want to go; all right, good luck; but you'd better dry yourself as soon as you get home." The peasant left the young girl and entered a wine shop. Violette had not even found a word of thanks to say to the good-natured man; she was in the street, she looked at the barrier, passed her hand over her forehead as if to collect her thoughts, then entered Paris, saying to herself: "I know where I am, the canal is over yonder!" Violette was no longer weeping, her eyes were dry. She walked rapidly through the faubourg, and when she reached the canal, instead of crossing the bridge, she turned to the left and walked for some time along the bank. It was ten o'clock at night, and there were few people on the path that she followed. A fatal idea had taken possession of the girl's mind--she was determined to die; she thought that she was dishonored because the man whose assistance she had implored had turned her out of his house. She said to herself that Georget could never love her again now, and she was resolved to rid herself of an existence which would henceforth be nothing but torture to her. Suddenly she stopped and looked about her; no one was passing. She stepped over the chain which was between her and the edge of the canal. In front of her there was a large coal barge; she hesitated a moment, then she reflected that she could throw herself into the water from the barge without being seen. She crossed a plank and was soon aboard of the barge; and before jumping into the water, she fell to her knees and murmured this prayer: "O my God! forgive me; it is a crime that I am about to commit, but I no longer feel strong enough to endure life, to be despised by everybody, although I have not committed the sins of which I am accused. He can no longer love me, for his protector turns me out of his house; but perhaps he will regret me, and will learn some day that I was innocent." She had no sooner finished these words than she rose and rushed forward; but someone who was hidden within a few steps of her and who had heard her prayer, stepped out and stopped her, holding her in a powerful grasp, and exclaiming: "Upon my word! jump into the water! by all that's good! you shan't do it. God help me! how glad I am that I happened to be here, and that I took Pere Chiffon's place as watchman on the barge! Poor Mamzelle Violette! you--mean to die?" "Yes, because I am despised by everyone."