the next person so suddenly as to cause Forty-
five to drop her bundle, with its precious
contents. Forty-six comes tottering up; has
nearly trodden Forty-five's bonnet into a
misshapen pancake; but, though an old
man, steps adroitly aside, and blunders against
the counter to receive a pair of boots. Poor
fellow! will he ever wear them out ?  As
Quarante-six moves off, Quarante-sept takes
his place, almost before he is summoned;
a lively young gentleman, most probably a
student, who does not whistle, as an Englishman
would, but hums the stretta of Bellini's
Chorus of Priests; he receives a paletôt, which
he carefully removes from its wrapper, and puts
on, amidst the admiring smiles of the spectators.
He is followed by a middle-aged woman,
who " retires " a warming-pan—the aspect of
which domestic utensil draws fresh smiles
from the bystanders. More persons follow—
men and women, of all ages, of all degrees of
poverty and of every scale of pretension; the
careworn and the timid, the reckless and the
profligate; reclaiming articles of every possible
description, of wearing apparel or household
use; varying in value from some very
minute number of francs up to a hundred;
beyond which latter sum My Aunt has no
dealings.

Meantime the expectants—careless, eager,
anxious, hopeless, according to the respective
numbers which they hold, and their
consequent chances of satisfaction, speedy or
remote—are awaiting their turns; some sitting
tranquilly on the benches round the walls of
the several rooms, others talking in groups;
some few, strangers evidently to the place,
and perhaps to the necessities which led them
there, shunning observation in shy corners,
or moodily pacing the corridors. In the next
room, that devoted to jewellery, and that
which more particularly concerns myself, there
are fewer persons, and those are, for the most
part, of a better class.

There is no jostling; no calling aloud of the
numbers: the persons present transact their
business whenever the opportunity arises,
decorously, without haste and without noise.
Ladies of elegant carriage and gesture—
contrasted with stained and worn apparel—may
be seen, closely veiled, as if shrinking from
notice or recognition, claiming some trinket
of a fashion long since out of date; heirlooms,
perhaps, and marriage gifts, and pledges of
friendship; records of past scenes and
sensations, feelings flown, and of givers dead.
There is an old man with white hair. His
great-coat has fallen open and revealed the
cordon of the Legion of Honour. He has
just concluded his negotiation with the official
at the counter, and bears away with him a
little locket, with a ribbon attached.

A young lady, clad in deep mourning, came
next. She stepped hesitatingly up to the
counter. Her eyes were fixed on the ground,
and she turned her face from the general
gaze. I could scarcely catch a glimpse of her
features, and her figure was concealed in
heavy and disguising garments. But her
motions were full of grace, and even her voice
excited at once the respectful attention of the
man to whom she addressed herself. I did
not hear the few words which were exchanged
between them; but I observed that she
received a small morocco case, and, as she
opened it for an instant, that it contained a
cross, set with diamonds, the cross of some
foreign order.

How vulgar, compared to the manner of
this young lady, was the demeanour of the
flippant fashionable who followed her! The
ring which she reclaimed, set dazzlingly with
diamonds, she placed on her finger with a
triumphant air, as so much added to her
decorations.

Meantime I am forgetting all about
Delphine's desolation, and the bracelet which is
to be its cure. Musing and moralising, most
unjustifiably, I twisted and tore my ticket.
Never mind, it was still legible, and the official
was disengaged. I assumed a business
air, and stepped up to the counter. Two
minutes more, and my mission was
accomplished. I pocketed the bracelet, and descended
into the street.

Musing on my way home upon things in
general, including bracelets, and soldiers, and
desolated porters' daughters, I came to the
conclusion that I might have passed my
morning less profitably than in paying a visit
to My Aunt.

My visit, however, had not altogether
satisfied my curiosity respecting the old lady.
Mademoiselle Delphine had told me
something of her characteristics, and I had learned
something more on my own account.
Mademoiselle Delphine had a general notion
that our mutual relative was a very convenient
person to borrow money from, and—voilà
tout! She judged of her simply as an
individual, and from personal experience. And
Delphine was in the right. She very
properly considered that she was not called upon
to interest herself in any matter of mere
public utility, especially when her so doing
involved the comprehension of anything so
distressing as statistics;—that her mission
upon earth was merely to look pretty and
to be amiable.

"To what good uses can we put
The wild weed-flower that simply blows;
And is there any moral shut
Within the bosom of the rose?"
—except, indeed, as Tennyson goes on to
say, such a moral as people may find out for
themselves, according to their minds and
moods.

For myself, however, not being so anxious
as Delphine to preserve my bloom, and to
keep off crows-feet, I did not scruple to
inform myself as to some facts concerning the
working of the system established by My
Aunt.