Their conversation then dropped.  Helene, not knowing what to do, opened the window; and when she turned round they avoided looking at one another.  The laughter of children came in through the circular window, which, with its bit of blue sky, seemed like a full round moon.  They could not have been more alone—­concealed from all inquisitive looks, with merely this bit of heaven gazing in on them.  The voices of the children died away in the distance; and a quivering silence fell.  No one would dream of finding them in that attic, out of the world.  Their confusion grew apace, and in the end Helene, displeased with herself, gave the doctor a steady glance.

“I have a great many visits to pay yet,” he at once exclaimed.  “As she doesn’t return, I must leave.”

He quitted the room, and Helene then sat down.  Immediately afterwards Mother Fetu returned with many protestations: 

“Oh! oh!  I can scarcely crawl; such a faintness came over me!  Has the dear good doctor gone?  Well, to be sure, there’s not much comfort here!  Oh, you are both angels from heaven, coming to spend your time with one so unfortunate as myself!  But God in His goodness will requite you.  The pain has gone down into my feet to-day, and I had to sit down on a step.  Oh, I should like to have some chairs!  If I only had an easy-chair!  My mattress is so vile too that I am quite ashamed when you come.  The whole place is at your disposal, and I would throw myself into the fire if you required it.  Yes.  Heaven knows it; I always repeat it in my prayers!  Oh, kind Lord, grant their utmost desires to these good friends of mine—­in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost!”

As Helene listened she experienced a singular feeling of discomfort.  Mother Fetu’s bloated face filled her with disgust.  Never before in this stifling attic had she been affected in a like way; its sordid misery seemed to stare her in the face; the lack of fresh air, the surrounding wretchedness, quite sickened her.  So she made all haste to leave, feeling hurt by the blessings which Mother Fetu poured after her.

In the Passage des Eaux an additional sorrow came upon her.  Halfway up, on the right-hand side of the path, the wall was hollowed out, and here there was an excavation, some disused well, enclosed by a railing.  During the last two days when passing she had heard the wailings of a cat rising from this well, and now, as she slowly climbed the path, these wailings were renewed, but so pitifully that they seemed instinct with the agony of death.  The thought that the poor brute, thrown into the disused well, was slowly dying there of hunger, quite rent Helene’s heart.  She hastened her steps, resolving that she would not venture down this lane again for a long time, lest the cat’s death-call should reach her ears.

The day was a Tuesday.  In the evening, on the stroke of seven, as Helene was finishing a tiny bodice, the two wonted rings at the bell were heard, and Rosalie opened the door.