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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 1,533 pages of information about The Wandering Jew Complete.

Before ringing she dried her tears; a new grief weighed upon her spirits.  On quitting the tavern, she had gone to the house of the person who usually found her in work; but she was told that she could not have any because it could be done a third more cheaply by women in prison.  Mother Bunch, rather than lose her last resource, offered to take it at the third less; but the linen had been already sent out; and the girl could not hope for employment for a fortnight to come, even if submitting to this reduction of wages.  One may conceive the anguish of the poor creature; the prospect before her was to die of hunger, if she would not beg or steal.  As for her visit to the lodge in the Rue de Babylone, it will be explained presently.

She rang the bell timidly; a few minutes after, Florine opened the door to her.  The waiting-maid was no longer adorned after the charming taste of Adrienne; on the contrary, she was dressed with an affectation of austere simplicity.  She wore a high-necked dress of a dark color, made full enough to conceal the light elegance of her figure.  Her bands of jet-black hair were hardly visible beneath the flat border of a starched white cap, very much resembling the head-dress of a nun.  Yet, in spite of this unornamental costume, Florine’s pale countenance was still admirably beautiful.

We have said that, placed by former misconduct at the mercy of Rodin and M. d’Aigrigny, Florine had served them as a spy upon her mistress, notwithstanding the marks of kindness and confidence she had received from her.  Yet Florine was not entirely corrupted; and she often suffered painful, but vain, remorse at the thought of the infamous part she was thus obliged to perform.

At the sight of Mother Bunch, whom she recognized—­for she had told her, the day before, of Agricola’s arrest and Mdlle. de Cardoville’s madness—­Florine recoiled a step, so much was she moved with pity at the appearance of the young sempstress.  In fact, the idea of being thrown out of work, in the midst of so many other painful circumstances, had made a terrible impression upon the young workwoman, the traces of recent tears furrowed her cheeks—­without her knowing it, her features expressed the deepest despair—­and she appeared so exhausted, so weak, so overcome, that Florine offered her arm to support her, and said to her kindly:  “Pray walk in and rest yourself; you are very pale, and seem to be ill and fatigued.”

So saying, Florine led her into a small room; with fireplace and carpet, and made her sit down in a tapestried armchair by the side of a good fire.  Georgette and Hebe had been dismissed, and Florine was left alone in care of the house.

When her guest was seated, Florine said to her with an air of interest:  “Will you not take anything?  A little orange flower-water and sugar, warm.”

“I thank you, mademoiselle,” said Mother Bunch, with emotion, so easily was her gratitude excited by the least mark of kindness; she felt, too, a pleasing surprise, that her poor garments had not been the cause of repugnance or disdain on the part of Florine.

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