After the scene in the wine shop, the habituÉs had retired one after another, Paul among the first; but before he went away, he had glanced at Sans-Cravate with an expression which bore not the slightest trace of ill humor for the latter's threats; on the contrary, it seemed to suggest the hope that a hand would be offered as a sign of reconciliation. Sans-Cravate apparently hesitated for a moment; but Jean Ficelle whispered in his ear, and he turned away without a word to the young messenger.

Paul slept very little that night; because he was thinking, not of what had happened at the wine shop, but of what he had to do the next morning. The thought that he was going to see Elina, that he was going to pass some time with her, filled his heart with the keenest joy in anticipation. The girl's face was constantly before his eyes; to think about a woman whom one loves is much better than sleeping; waking dreams are often very sweet; for one shapes them according to his own pleasure; while those which come to us during our sleep are not always rose-colored.

The clock had just struck half-past five, when Paul pulled the copper bell knob of the house in which Elina lived with her aunt. Nobody answered the bell, and the young man was obliged to ring twice more; for the concierges of the ChaussÉe d'Antin do not rise so early as their brethren of the Marais. The door was opened at last by an old fellow, who passed his head, swathed in several cotton nightcaps, through a little, round window, and asked in a wrathful tone:

"Who is it who has the effrontery to ring my bell at this time of day? Who do you want to see? No one's up?"

"Excuse me, monsieur," said Paul; "I am going up to Mademoiselle Elina's, to help her move; and she must be up, for she herself asked me to come at half-past five."

"Bah! this is interesting!" snarled the concierge. "Some of 'em are up at daybreak, others don't go to bed at all, but pass the night playing cards and raising the devil! It was outrageous, the way they acted last night; the noise they made in that dauber's studio. I wonder when they'll turn that fellow out of the house."

Paul did not stay to listen to the concierge's reflections; he had already started upstairs, and he soon reached the door of Madame Vardeine's apartment. He coughed softly, and the door was opened at once, for Elina was already up and waiting for him; perhaps, indeed, she had slept no more than he.

If, gentle reader, you are surprised that a young and pretty dressmaker should have a tender feeling for a mere messenger, you must remember that in Paul's manners and language there was none of the coarseness generally characteristic of those of his calling; that he had received a good education, through the kindness of a generous benefactor; that he had performed the duties of clerk for a considerable time; and, lastly, that, although circumstances had forced him to resort to the crochets of a messenger, he had not chosen to adopt the habits of his confrÈres: that he did not frequent wine shops, to which his visit of the previous evening was his first, and that his language was still as refined and agreeable as his voice.

"Here I am, mademoiselle," said Paul, saluting the young woman awkwardly enough; for nothing makes a man so awkward as a first love, especially a man who does not make a business of seduction. It is not so with women: love almost always makes them more charming and attractive; by augmenting their desire to please, it heightens the charms they already possess and sometimes gives them others which had not previously been detected in them. "I have come too early, perhaps; did I wake you?"

"Oh, no! Monsieur Paul," the girl replied, with a pleasant smile. "I have been awake a long time, and was waiting for you. Come in, but don't make any noise, for my aunt is still asleep, and I should be very glad if she could find everything done when she wakes."

The messenger followed Elina into the apartment, and she showed him the little room which she occupied.

"That's all the furniture I have," she said; "a cot-bed, a walnut wardrobe, this little desk, and a chair; but I'm afraid it's too much for a loft. However, I should like to get it all in, if I could; for the wardrobe was my mother's and the little desk my father's, and with those two pieces it seems to me as if I wasn't quite an orphan—as if papa and mamma were still here looking out for me. I think one is so fortunate to have something that used to belong to one's parents. Why, I wouldn't sell those two things for all the gold in the world! And yet, they're old and out of fashion; my aunt said once that the wardrobe wasn't good for anything but firewood. Oh! I was terribly angry that day! and my aunt has never said that again. Burn this wardrobe, in which my mother kept her dresses and all her clothes, and this desk that my father wrote on every day—never! never! And even if I should ever be rich, I should think just as much of them, and I would never part with them."

Tears stood in Elina's eyes when she finished. Paul looked at her with emotion, lovingly; she seemed to him prettier than ever, for laudable sentiments have a way of embellishing those who are inspired by them, whereas evil sentiments change and distort the prettiest face. Women do not regard their own interests when they are angry, sulky, or jealous.

"You are quite right, mademoiselle," said Paul, with a sigh; "you must be very happy to have something that comes from your parents."

"Have you lost yours, Monsieur Paul?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"A long while ago?"

"Yes."

"Didn't they leave you anything that had belonged to them?"

"No, mademoiselle—nothing."

"Mon Dieu! what an extraordinary resemblance there is between us! Both orphans; both hardly knew our parents—we are in the same situation."

"Oh! no, mademoiselle; you are much more fortunate!"

"Yes, of course; because I have this wardrobe and this little desk."

Paul made no reply, but turned his head away and wiped his eyes.

"What a stupid creature I am!" cried Elina; "to talk of things that make you sad! Come, let us go to work; we have none too much time. I have the key of our new lodgings; it's the door on the opposite side of the landing; I'll go and open it."

While the girl went to open the door, Paul took down the bed, being careful to make as little noise as possible; then he began to move the furniture into the new lodgings.

Elina pointed out a little loft, which was reached from a small, square room.

"That's my bedroom," she said. "It seems that I shan't have any too much light up there. However, my aunt says that one doesn't need to see in order to go to bed."

"Your aunt is far from kind to you, mademoiselle; and yet she cannot have any fault to find with you."

"Oh! Monsieur Paul, aunts don't think as one's—friends do. They always find some reason for scolding. Wait; there's a ladder to climb up to my new room; let me fix it firmly."

"Let me do that, mademoiselle."

The young man put the ladder in place and went up into the loft.

"Do you think it will hold all my furniture?" Elina called to him.

"Why, it's not so very small. But if you set up your bed, mademoiselle, there won't be room for your wardrobe and desk."

"In that case, we won't set it up; I don't care anything about it—it's my aunt's. I'd much rather sleep on the floor, and keep my father's and mother's furniture."

"But you won't be comfortable if you sleep on the floor."

"I shall be all right. I am not hard to suit, and I am perfectly content if my wardrobe and desk can be got in."

Paul did as she desired; he placed on the floor, in one corner of the loft, the two mattresses that were on her bed; then he went back and brought the walnut wardrobe and the little desk, and succeeded in finding room for them in the young girl's new apartment; she, meanwhile, remained at the foot of the ladder, clapping her hands and jumping for joy when she found that the loft would hold the two objects to which she was so much attached.

"They are all right," said Paul; "but, mademoiselle, there's no room for anything else, not even a chair."

"Oh! I don't care. I don't need any chair up there; I can sit on my bed. I must come up and see how you have arranged it."

And the pretty creature ran nimbly up the ladder into the loft, forgetting that Paul was still there. It is very imprudent for a young lady to be in a loft with a young man. It is much more dangerous when the young man is good-looking, and one is already inclined to like him.

But Elina did not think of all that. Luckily for her, Paul was honorable and shy. But the most virtuous heart may prove recreant when it is very much in love. Paul's beat violently when the girl climbed the ladder and entered that poor chamber, where it was not possible to stand upright. He had squatted in a corner, in order not to take up too much room, and he dared not stir.

"Oh! how nicely it's arranged!" exclaimed Elina, looking about; "there's room for everything; I shall have everything right at hand. Oh! how pleased I am!"

And the girl, forgetting that the place was very low, raised her head to thank Paul; but she struck the ceiling, then stumbled, and fell on the mattress with a little shriek.

Instantly Paul was on his knees by her side; he examined her head anxiously, saying:

"Mon Dieu! you must have hurt yourself terribly. I ought to have warned you. I will go and get some water, some liniment."

But Elina was smiling again, and she detained the young man.

"It is nothing," she said. "It made me dizzy, that's all; and that has gone now. I shall get out of it with a bump on my forehead. Dear me! I must accustom myself to my loft."

"Do let me fetch you something, mademoiselle."

"Why, no, I don't need anything, I tell you. Give me your hand."

She took Paul's hand and put it to her forehead.

"Can you feel anything?"

"Yes, mademoiselle; there'll be a swelling there."

"The girls will all laugh at me. I've heard that by pressing hard on the place you can prevent a swelling. Will you press on it, Monsieur Paul?"

"I am afraid of hurting you."

"No, no. Please press; don't be afraid."

The young man trembled in every limb as he pressed his hand against Elina's smooth, white forehead; her glossy fair hair was disarranged, and several curls fluttered about Paul's hand, increasing his emotion to such an extent that his hand suddenly slipped and rested on the girl's heart instead of on her forehead. Elina made no objection; she had forgotten all about the blow she had dealt herself. The heart almost always acts as a derivative, to use a medical term: when it is well occupied, one is conscious of no pain elsewhere.

Paul no longer knew what he was doing.

"Forgive me for loving you, mademoiselle," he faltered, in a trembling voice; "I know that it is very presumptuous of me; I am not worthy of you, for I am only a poor messenger; but my love is stronger than my reason, it will last all my life. This confession has escaped me in spite of myself. Pray don't be angry; I will never mention it again!"

Elina did not seem at all offended; her cheeks were crimson, and she kept her eyes on the floor, as she faltered in her turn:

"I am not angry. It isn't a crime to love a person. Mon Dieu! Monsieur Paul, even before you told me—I don't know why, but I had thought—I had guessed that you loved me, and—and—it made me happy. I don't forbid you to mention it to me—far from it!"

"Ah! mademoiselle, how good you are! and how happy I should be, if—if——"

He dared not say: "If you loved me, too." But his eyes finished the sentence. Elina, who understood him as well as if he had said the words, replied artlessly:

"I thought that you had guessed, too."

Paul put her hands to his lips, and covered them with kisses.

"Ah! I am permitted to know the most perfect happiness!" he cried; "I envy no man on earth. To be loved by you—I dare not believe it! The thought will increase my courage tenfold. I will work harder than ever, so that I can save money; and if I could offer you a comfortable existence; if I could save enough to have a little home of our own; if—— But, no, it is impossible; I can never hope for anything of the kind."

Paul's face became sad once more, and he looked away from Elina. But she took his hand and pressed it softly, saying:

"Well, well! why are you so sad, all of a sudden? I feel so happy! Do you think that I am ambitious, pray, and that I won't be content with whatever you can offer me? It is very bad of you to think that."

"No, mademoiselle; it isn't money that I am thinking of. I am very sure that you are like me, and that you don't care about that. But it is—it is—— Oh! mademoiselle, I will tell you everything, for I do not want to deceive you; and no matter what it costs me to make the confession, you shall know what I am; then you will see that I am not worthy of your love."

"Mon Dieu! what do you mean? You frighten me! Have you done anything wrong?"

"No, it's not that. But you said just now that our positions were the same, because we are both orphans. That is not true, mademoiselle; you have lost your parents, but you did know them; you know who they were, you remember your father's kisses. But I have no idea who my parents are. They may be living, but I do not know whether they are or not. They cast me out, spurned me from their arms. In a word, I am a wretched foundling."

"A foundling?"

"Yes, mademoiselle; I was left at the door where all the poor children are left whose parents cannot or, in some cases, do not choose to bring them up. There was a paper on me, on which was written: Paul de Saint-Cloud. Saint-Cloud is probably where I was born. And on my forearm there was a little cross—which I still have, for it doesn't wear out;—was that mark placed there so that I might be found and identified some day? I hoped so for a long time. But now I have ceased to hope, for I am more than twenty-three years old, and I have never heard of my parents. During all the time I passed with Monsieur Desroches,—an excellent man, who took me from the charitable asylum when I was ten years old, and treated me like his own son,—he did all that he could to obtain some information which would help me to find my parents; but it all came to nothing; and when my benefactor saw me weeping with grief, because I could not embrace my father or mother, he would kiss me affectionately, and say: 'Don't grieve so, my boy; birth is a game of chance; those who come into the world with a name and rank and wealth all ready for them, often do not take the trouble to cultivate talents and estimable qualities, because they deem themselves sufficiently well equipped as they are; but he who begins his life without any of those advantages is compelled to behave well in order to obtain what he lacks. According to that, my boy, the advantage would seem to be with him who comes into the world without anything.' With such arguments, Monsieur Desroches comforted me and gave me courage. But I am a poor foundling none the less, with no name, no family, to offer you. That is what I felt bound to tell you, mademoiselle; for it is wrong to deceive anyone. That is what makes me think that I shall never be considered worthy to be your husband."

Elina had listened to the young messenger's story with the most profound interest; her eyes were filled with tears when he finished, and she held out her hand, saying with the impulsive frankness that comes from the heart:

"Take my hand; I give it to you, and what you have told me will not prevent me from loving you; far from it; and since my parents are dead, it seems to me that I have the right to select a husband for myself."

Beside himself with joy, Paul seized the hand she offered him, and covered it with kisses, repeating the most fervent oaths.

"Just see how things change their aspect!" cried the girl, in her ingenuous delight; "this loft, which seemed such a dismal place to me at first, seems very attractive now, and I am sure that I shall like it very much; for I shall always remember that it was here that you first told me that you loved me."

Paul was about to reply with renewed protestations, when they heard a great burst of laughter close at hand. They stepped to the entrance to the loft, and saw three young men in the small room below that opened on the landing, standing at the foot of the ladder, clapping their hands, shouting bravo, and laughing uproariously.

The new-comers were Albert, CÉlestin, and Mouillot, whom we left asleep in Balivan's studio, and who, when they woke about six in the morning, began by laughing at the idea of their being in that place. Then they started to return to their respective abodes; but when they were on the landing, CÉlestin remembered the pretty neighbor.

"By the way," he said, "what about the little neighbor overhead! Parbleu! she must be at home still, and I won't go away without a look at her."

"Nor I, either," added tall Mouillot. "I want to decide whether she's as good-looking as Balivan claims.—Au revoir, Albert! Go on, if you're in a hurry."

"No; I still have some time to spare, and I also am curious to see the neighbor. I will go with you, messieurs."

"But how shall we get her to open the door?"

"That's a simple matter. We will knock, stamp heavily on the floor, and say in a deep voice: 'The water carrier, mamzelle.'—The water carriers always come early, and people open their doors for them, even when they're only half dressed. She'll open for us."

And the young men went upstairs, leaving Varinet still asleep, with his olive in his pocket.

When they reached the upper landing, they were surprised to find two open doors.

"It seems that we shall not have to play water carrier," they said. "Can it be that the pretty neighbor sleeps with her door open? That would indicate the confidence of innocence—or just the opposite. Which door shall we go in?"

"Let chance decide."

Chance led them into the small room below the loft. There their attention was attracted by the fervent protestations of love repeated by Paul and Elina, who did not hear them enter the room; for lovers, when they are swearing to adore each other, never hear anything else.

Thereupon the young men made their comments aloud.

"I should say that we had found a nest!" said Mouillot.

"Love in a loft! a genre picture," added Albert.

"And to think that Balivan extolled his neighbor's virtue!" observed CÉlestin. "I thought our artist was more sharp-witted than that; but it seems that he doesn't know all the colors yet."

The outburst of laughter followed, and warned the lovers at last that there was somebody close at hand.

Elina blushed to the whites of her eyes when she saw the young men; Paul quivered with wrath, and would have rushed down the ladder, but CÉlestin had just taken it away.

"Things seem to be progressing up there," said Mouillot; "we're beginning our day well."

"On my word, she is charming!" said Albert; "Balivan didn't deceive us."

"True, so far as her face goes."

"Why have you come here, messieurs? what do you want?" demanded Paul; "why do you presume to take away the ladder? Put it back at once!"

"Aha! the lover is losing his temper!" said Mouillot. "But, just consider—suppose we were evil-minded? We have you both in a cage up there—suppose we should go and tell the young lady's parents; what would you say?"

"That there is no harm, messieurs, in going into a loft when one is moving furniture there; and that is why I am here now with mademoiselle."

"Ah! not bad! not bad! and it was part of the moving to kiss her, I suppose; and to swear eternal love, young Lothario?"

"I kissed mademoiselle's hand only, monsieur. As to what I said to her, that doesn't concern you; you had no right to listen."

"Hoity-toity! then you should lock the doors, imprudent children that you are!"

"Why, God bless me! the lover is one of our messengers, Sans-Cravate's mate!"

"Yes, that is so! it was he who did Tobie's errands yesterday. Ah! young dressmaker! is it possible? you listen to a messenger? Why, you degrade yourself, girl; your trade entitles you to look higher—especially with such lovely eyes!"

"Treat mademoiselle with respect, messieurs!" exclaimed Paul; "or I'll make you repent your insolence!"

"Do you, knave," retorted CÉlestin, "begin by holding your tongue; if not, you'll be whipped for your impertinence."

"We shall not put back the ladder except on several conditions," said Albert; "first, that the little dressmaker allow us to kiss her."

"I," said Mouillot, "demand that she measure me for a pair of drawers."

Elina made no reply; in her distress, she had taken refuge in the farthest corner of the loft, where she tried to avoid the glances of the young men. But Paul could not control his wrath; he jumped down into the room below, at the risk of injuring himself, rushed at CÉlestin, snatched the ladder from him with a powerful hand, and placed it against the entrance to the loft.

"Now, let anyone dare to take it away, and he will have to settle with me!"

The messenger had acted so rapidly and energetically that the young men were speechless for a moment. Then CÉlestin walked toward Paul, saying:

"Leave this room instantly! Gentlemen like us do not care to soil our hands with a fellow of your stamp; but if I had a cane, I'd break it over your shoulders."

Paul took his stand in front of CÉlestin and looked him straight in the eye, as he rejoined:

"Men like me, messengers though we are, are far above men of your stamp, who know no better than to insult an honest girl. If you do deem yourself my superior in the street, because I stand there to do your errands, here, you are far below the poor man of the people; for he bears himself with honor, while your conduct is that of a scoundrel."

"Ah! this is too much!—Well, messieurs, won't you help me to thrash this wretch?"

Albert hesitated; one would have said that Paul's resolute bearing had made an impression on him, and that in his heart he felt that the young man was in the right. But Mouillot did not choose to disregard CÉlestin's appeal; he ran to the ladder, and CÉlestin tried to drag Paul from his position by pulling his arm; but the messenger pushed him away so violently that he stumbled over his friend Mouillot. However, they were preparing to renew their attack, when they heard a succession of piercing shrieks; and little Elina, seeing that Paul was going to fight, added her voice to the tumult, calling for help.

"Robbers! robbers!" a voice cried from the next apartment.

"Mon Dieu! it's my aunt who is being robbed!" said Elina. "Do go and see, Monsieur Paul!"

Paul was unwilling to move from the foot of the ladder and leave Elina exposed to the enterprises of the young men. But the appearance of an old woman, clad in nothing but a chemise and a camisole, with an old handkerchief, twisted into the shape of a turban, on her head, changed the whole aspect of affairs; it was Elina's aunt, who, regardless of the incompleteness of her costume, ran wildly about the room, shrieking:

"Robbers! there's a thief in my room! I saw him standing by my bed when I woke up! Arrest him, messieurs, I beg you! he's there still. I put myself under your protection."

And Madame Vardeine would have rushed into the arms of the young men; but they were cruel enough to shrink from the embraces of that lady in chemise and camisole, who at that moment concealed none of her charms.

Meanwhile, attracted by the shrieks of the old woman and the girl, the concierge had arrived upon the scene, carrying his broom in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He thrust his broom into the chamber first, as if he intended to remove the cobwebs; then entered himself, saying in a hoarse voice:

"Is anybody being killed here? What's all this row about? It's hardly daylight, and you're fighting already! I give you notice that I am going to tell the landlord, so that he'll turn you all out of doors."

The concierge's head, upon which he wore three or four woollen and cotton caps, one above another, and Madame Vardeine's, with her turban awry, were so comical to look at, that Mouillot and Albert roared with laughter. To add to the confusion, Varinet also appeared in the doorway.

"What are you all doing here?" he inquired.

At sight of the young man with the white eyebrows, Madame Vardeine gave a jump which shook her whole frame in a distressing way.

"There's my robber!" she cried; "that's the man I saw by my bed when I woke up; I know him by his eyebrows!"

"Mon Dieu, madame!" rejoined Varinet, calmly; "I beg that you will excuse me, but I was looking for these gentlemen; I heard them laughing, from the floor below; so I came up, found a door open, and entered your apartment with no idea where I was going."

Madame Vardeine did not seem convinced, and the concierge still held his broom in the air as if he proposed to sweep everybody out of the room. But the arrival of Balivan restored peace. The painter rescued his friends, guaranteeing that there were no thieves among them, and they decided at last to go away with him; but before taking their leave, each of them cast a parting glance at the loft, where Elina crouched, trembling from head to foot.

"She is charming," said Albert.

"I shall see her again," said Mouillot.

"Yes, yes," added CÉlestin; "and everyone will receive what he deserves for his conduct this morning."

Paul made no reply, but the glance with which he met CÉlestin's seemed to defy him, and to show how little heed he paid to his threats.