How she had labored that day to prepare it for evening illumination! A little beyond it, on the wall, hung a crucifix.

She knelt under it, with her eyes fixed upon it, and thus silently remained until its outline was indistinguishable in the deepening shadows of evening.
She arose.

A few minutes later, as she was trying to light the lamp, an approaching step on the sidewalk seemed to pause.

Her heart stood still.
She softly laid the phosphorus-box out of her hands.

A shoe grated softly on the stone step, and Madame Delphine, her heart beating in great thuds, without waiting for a knock, opened the door, bowed low, and exclaimed in a soft perturbed voice: "Miche Vignevielle!" He entered, hat in hand, and with that almost noiseless tread which we have noticed.