"Yes, yes; charity from the poor to the poor is great and holy!" said Clémence, with her eyes moistened by soft tears.
"It was the same with Mademoiselle Rigolette, who, according to her little means as a sempstress," said Lorraine, "some days ago offered her kind services to Jeanne."
"How singular!" said Clémence to herself, more and more affected, for each of these two names, Goualeuse and Rigolette, reminded her of a noble action of Rodolph. "And you, my child, what can I do for you?" she said to Lorraine; "I could wish that the names you pronounce with so much gratitude should also bring you good fortune."
"Thank you, madame," said Lorraine, with a smile of bitter resignation. "I had a child, it is dead; I am in a decline and past all hope."
"What a gloomy idea! At your age there is always hope."
"Oh, no, madame, I saw a consumptive patient die last night. Yet as you are so good, a great lady like you must be able to do anything."
"Tell me, what do you wish?"
"Since I have seen the actress who is dead so distressed at the idea of being cut in pieces after her death, I have the same fear. Jeanne had promised to claim my body, and have me buried."
"Ah, this is horrible!" said Clémence, shuddering. "Be tranquil, although I hope the time is far distant, yet, when it comes, be assured that your body shall rest in holy ground."
"Oh, thank you—thank you, madame!" exclaimed Lorraine. "Might I beg to kiss your hand?"