Now I had paid away my last sous to the garçon d'écurie at the Poste: so I told them pettishly that I had not a liard to give. A coin tinkled on the ground; it had fallen from the hand of the Marquise; and as I stooped to reach it for her, I saw that it was gold.

"Let them have it, poor things. I thought it was silver; but it has touched holy ground, and 'tis now their own."

I turned round, thrust my purse into the lap of the nearest, and with a light heart led the lady back to the hotel.


POEMS BY ELIZABETH BARRETT BARRETT.

A Woman's Shortcomings.

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