"No, nothing,—nothing but the dead branches of my poor rose-tree; and that is why I love it so."
When Rodolph and Goualeuse had reached the Quai aux Fleurs, a coach was waiting there, into which Rodolph handed Goualeuse. He got in himself, saying to the driver:
"To St. Denis; I will tell you presently which road to take."
The coach went on. The sun was bright, and the sky cloudless, whilst the air, fresh and crisp, circulated freely through the open windows.
"Here is a woman's cloak!" said Goualeuse, remarking that she had seated herself on the garment without having at first noticed it.
"Yes, it is for you, my child; I brought it with me for fear you should be cold."
Little accustomed to such attention, the poor girl looked at Rodolph with surprise.
"Mon Dieu! M. Rodolph, how kind you are; I am really ashamed—"
"Because I am kind?"
"No; but you do not speak as you did yesterday; you appear quite another person."