"We are going to Bouqueval Farm, to Madame George, ma'am?" cried La
Goualeuse.
"Yes, certainly, we are going to the country—to Madame George," said the housekeeper, to drive away every suspicion from the mind of Fleur-de-Marie; then she added, with malicious good nature, "But this is not all; before you see Madame George, a little surprise awaits you. Come, come, our hack is below. What delight you must feel at leaving this place, dear. Come, let us go. Your servant, sirs." And Mrs. Seraphin, after having exchanged salutations with the warders, descended with La Goualeuse, followed by an officer to open the doors. The last one was closed on the two females, and they found themselves under the large porch which faces the Rue du Faubourg Saint Denis, when they met a girl who was coming, doubtless, to visit a prisoner. It was Rigolette, ever neat and coquettish. A little plain cap, very clean, and trimmed with cherry-colored ribbons, which harmonized wonderfully with her jet-black hair, surrounded her pretty face; a very white collar was turned over her long brown tartan. She carried on her arm a straw basket, and, thanks to her neat and graceful manner of walking, her thick-soled boots were of marvelous cleanliness, although she came, alas, very far.
"Rigolette!" cried Fleur-de-Marie, at once recognizing her.
"La Goualeuse!" exclaimed the grisette in her turn. And the girls threw themselves into each other's arms. Nothing could be more enchanting than the contrast between these young creatures of sixteen, tenderly embracing, both so charming, and yet so different in expression and beauty. The one fair, with large, blue, melancholy eyes, and a profile of angelic pureness; the other a lively brunette, with round and rosy cheeks, pretty black eyes, a charming picture of youth and gayety, a rare and touching example of happiness in indigence, of virtue in destitution, and of joy in industry.
When Fleur-de-Marie, dragged up, rather than brought up, had run away from a hag known as Old One-eye, she had been arrested and committed to prison for eight years. Taught sewing there, she had saved up some three hundred francs. Ignorant, childishly fond of flowers and the open air of the country, she had made Rigolette's acquaintance, with hardly a deeper object than to have a companion in her jaunts. Her money spent, Fleur-de-Marie had fallen in with the Ogress, the keeper of the Lapin Blanc Tavern, who had kept her for the sinful purposes which had blemished all her life.
After an exchange of their mutual caresses, the girls looked at each other. Rigolette was joyful at the encounter, Fleur-de-Marie confused.
The sight of her friend recalled to her mind the few days of calm enjoyment which had preceded her first degradation. "It is you—what happiness!" said the grisette.
"Goodness me! what a delightful surprise, it is so long since we have seen one another," answered La Goualeuse.
"Oh! now I am no longer astonished at not having met you for six months," remarked Rigolette, observing the rustic clothes of La Goualeuse; "you live in the country?"
"Yes, since some time," said Fleur-de-Marie, casting down her eyes.