When he reached the worn threshold, and stood upon the
broken step at the door, where in the old days he had had so many
desperate thoughts, an old woman came out of the room within and
spoke to him.
"You are M. Raphael de Valentin, are you not?"
"Yes, good mother," he replied.
"You know your old room then," she replied; "you are expected up
there."
"Does Mme. Gaudin still own the house?" Raphael asked.
"Oh no, sir. Mme. Gaudin is a baroness now. She lives in a fine house
of her own on the other side of the river. Her husband has come back.
My goodness, he brought back thousands and thousands. They say she
could buy up all the Quartier Saint-Jacques if she liked. She gave me
her basement room for nothing, and the remainder of her lease. Ah,
she's a kind woman all the same; she is no more proud to-day than she
was yesterday."
Raphael hurried up the staircase to his garret; as he reached the last
few steps he heard the sounds of a piano. Pauline was there, simply
dressed in a cotton gown, but the way that it was made, like the
gloves, hat, and shawl that she had thrown carelessly upon the bed,
revealed a change of fortune.
"Ah, there you are!" cried Pauline, turning her head, and rising with
unconcealed delight.
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