When Gabrielle and Madeleine had retired for the night to the little bedroom of the latter, Madeleine seated herself on the bed, set her candle on the table, and holding Gabrielle by the wrists looked full in her face, and said abruptly: 'What brings you to Paris?'
The little peasantess was startled, and hesitated. Madeleine asked after a moment's delay,—'You have come to trade on your youth and beauty?'
Gabrielle's eyes opened wide. She did not understand.
'Yes,' said the Parisian flower-girl; 'God gives us comely countenances, graceful limbs, and ready wit. These are our wares, set up at auction to the highest bidder. So runs the world. God did not make it so; it is the creation of privilege. I have tried millinery-work—that did not suit me. I have tried wood-carving for churches—that did not pay. I have sought admission to many another trade—it was not open to women. So now my mother has sent me to Versailles to sell flowers to the nobles and gentry of the court, to be coaxed and petted and flirted with, to try to bewitch, ensnare, shackle one of them. By all means, if possible, to entangle some rich aristocrat. A glorious aim for woman! Hah! to estimate beauty at so much; a straight nose at so much, ruddy lips at so much, dimples at so much, laughing black eyes at so much, wit at so much, and virtue at nothing!'
She paused and shook Gabrielle's arms passionately. Then she went on: 'Bread is scarce, all provisions are dear. Why? because speculators buy up the corn,—keep it back to create a famine, and enrich themselves on the sufferings of the poor. Can poor folk afford to keep daughters at home to eat, eat, eat, and bring in nothing? First the interested create destitution, and then they take advantage of it to buy of the destitute what we would not sell except to save life. We are not poor here,—we in this house, because we live on the scraps flung us by the privileged classes. The corporal is salaried by the king to defend his majesty and his majesty's prisons against the French people, whose father he pretends to be; my mother makes caps and head-dresses for the grand ladies, the wives and mistresses of the officers; Klaus gets his living from the ecclesiastics, who buy his statues; and I sell flowers to the queen and the court, and keep my eyes open, looking out for a chance. Tell me now—why are you come here? On speculation?'
'I have come to Paris, because a lady whom I love is in the Bastille.'
'In the Bastille!' exclaimed Madeleine, dropping her hands.
'And I must do my best to obtain her release.'
The Parisian girl laughed.