"But, no, no! to see you in such a place—I never can dare. Yet you are so kind, that—
"I am obliged to stop, and send you this, with the key and the note to the porter, which I shall write in haste, as the keeper has come to tell me I am to be taken before the judge. Adieu, adieu, Mlle. Rigolette.
"Do not cast me off. I have no hope but in you—in you alone.
"FRANCOIS GERMAIN.
"P.S.—If you answer address your letter to the prison of La Force."
The reader can now comprehend the cause of the first grief of La Rigolette. Her excellent heart was profoundly affected at a calamity of which she had not had until then any suspicion. She believed implicitly in the entire veracity of the story of Germain. Not very severe, she even found that her old neighbor enormously exaggerated his fault. To save an unfortunate father, he had taken the money, which he knew he could return. This action, in the eyes of the grisette, was only generous.
By one of those inconsistencies natural to women, and above all, to those of her class, this girl, who until then had felt for Germain, as for her other neighbors, a joyous and cordial friendship, now acknowledged a decided preference.
As soon as she knew he was unfortunate, unjustly accused, and a prisoner, she thought no more of his rivals.
With Rigolette it was not yet love; it was a lively, sincere affection, filled with commiseration and resolute devotion: a very new sentiment for her, from the bitterness which was joined to it. Such was her mental situation when Rudolph entered her room, after having discreetly knocked at the door.
"Good-day, my neighbor," said Rudolph; "I hope I do not disturb you?"