The woman laughed with delight, but presently she uttered a cry of distress.
"The box! the box!—where is the box?"
Francine had heard this same exclamation over and over again, and attached no significance to it, but to humor the invalid, she answered:
"Oh! you shall have the box."
"Yes, I must have it. Everything is in it—fortune, money, titles. Where have I put it?"
Her voice dropped so low that Francine could hardly hear her.
It was time for the girl to go out, and, as it was Mardi Gras, she hoped for large receipts. She returned to her chamber and took her guitar. Just as she was going out, she heard a knock on her door. She started, and called out:
"Who is it?"
"A friend?"