They set off. The sale took place in the Agricultural Hall of France. All over the walls hung groups of flags, whilst above a verdant groove stood a marble bust representing Alsace, with a mourning sash flung across the breast. The wife of a Deputy from the Vosges, surrounded by a group of ladies belonging to official circles, performed the honours. A large double sofa occupied the middle of the room, between two rows of stalls, in which the most aristocratic families of Alsace and Lorraine were represented by white haired grandmothers who had never been willing to acknowledge the conquest of these two lost provinces, and elegant young ladies, smiling and careless, educated or born in exile, and finding France beautiful, and life pleasant, even though it were passed far from their native soil. Lichtenbach and Marianne were warmly received immediately they entered the room. Here the financier’s prestige and the influence of the journal proprietor could be exercised in uninterrupted sovereignty. Nothing but smiles on every side. The more republican one’s opinions, the more unctuous was the respect lavished on Lichtenbach, the reactionary. Marianne, timid and anxious, was looking for the stall presided over by Madame Sainte-Alix. A young attendant, anxious to serve so rich an heiress, placed himself under the young girl’s orders, and Marianne passed through the crowd of buyers and sellers until she reached the stall where her old companions were selling children’s clothing at five times its real value, and that without the slightest difficulty. Geneviève de Trémont, dressed in mourning, presided over the hosiery department. After exchanging a friendly greeting she asked— “Are you all alone?” “Oh no. My father has stayed behind for a moment to speak to the wife of a Senator.” “He is going to leave you here for some time?” “I do not know. Perhaps it would not be convenient for him to return for me.” Turning towards the nun presiding at the cash-box, she said— “Are you pleased with the result of your sales, madame?” “We have made three thousand francs since noon, my child. But it will soon be five o’clock. In an hour everything will be over. We have still a third of our stock left.” “Very well. Send me everything you have not sold to-night,” said the young girl, simply. “Ah, my child, how grateful I feel to you. But what will your father think?” Mademoiselle Lichtenbach smiled calmly. “My father? He never opposes my wishes. Besides, I am rich.” She exhibited a purse full of gold. “And, if that is not sufficient, papa will make me an advance.” “Ha, look in front!” said Geneviève de Trémont. “There is Amélie at the stall of Madame Baradier.”