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Rh his attachment to Madame de Mercœur suggested, in the shape of kindness to her young and friendless protégée.

"I will trespass on your time no longer," said he, rising; "do not, in a foolish fancy of youthful depression, throw away the fortunes of your future life. I shall expect your answer to-night."

Francesca followed him to the door, offering the thanks she could yet scarcely articulate. The moment the Cardinal was gone, she threw herself into a fauteuil, and wept bitterly. For the first time, the sense of her extreme isolation pressed heavily upon her; she listened to that constant and hollow sound in the air, which tells you at once that you are in the heart of a crowded city.

"Good God!" thought she, "Amid the countless multitudes hurrying around, have not I a single friend?—no, not one! And yet what the Cardinal said is true—here I cannot remain—what right have I to intrude? But where am I to go—to the Comtesse de Soissons?—a cell in their terrible bastile! So false, so unkind, so designing—no, no! dependence on her sufferance—kindness I will not call it—were too bitter. Then this place about the Queen—ah! how little do I desire any such glittering bondage! Why should I lay up for myself so much of future discontent