The agitated girl broke the seals which secured the outward cover, and from it fell a quantity of papers, one of which, bearing the superscription of Mlle. Rigolette, contained these words: "MADEMOISELLE:--When this letter reaches your hands, I shall be no more, if, as I fear, I should perish by a violent death, through falling into a snare similar to that from which I lately escaped. A few particulars herein enclosed, and entitled 'Notes on My Life,' may serve to discover my murderers." "Ah, M. Rodolph," cried Rigolette, interrupting herself, "I am no longer astonished poor Germain was so melancholy! How very dreadful to be continually pursued by such ideas!" "He must, indeed, have suffered deeply; but, trust me, his worst misfortunes are over." "Alas, M. Rodolph, I trust it may prove so! Still, to be in prison, and accused of theft!" "Make yourself quite easy about him; his innocence once proved, instead of returning to his former seclusion and loneliness, he will regain his friends. You, first and foremost, and then a dearly loved mother, from whom he has been separated from his childhood." "His mother! Has he, then, still a mother?" "He has, but she has long believed him lost to her for ever. Imagine her delight at seeing him again, cleared from the unworthy charge now brought against him. You see I was right in saying that his greatest troubles were over; do not mention his mother to him. I entrust you with the secret, because you take so generous an interest in the fate of Germain that it is but due to your devotedness that you should be tranquillised as to his future fate." "Oh, thank you, M. Rodolph! I promise you to guard the secret as carefully as you could do." Rigolette then proceeded with the perusal of Germain's letter; it continued thus: