Softly she entered the room of the sleeping Madame Nanteuil.

With silent steps she crept over to the wardrobe, opened it slowly and noiselessly, and, standing on a chair, explored the top shelf, which was loaded with old cardboard boxes.

She came upon an album which dated from the Second Empire, and which had not been opened for twenty years.

She rummaged among a mass of letters, of bundles of receipts and Mont-de-Piete vouchers.

Awakened by the light of the candle and by the mouse-like noise made by the seeker, Madame Nanteuil demanded: "Who is there ?" Immediately, perceiving the familiar little phantom in her long nightgown, with a heavy plait of hair down her back, perched on a chair, she exclaimed: "It's you, Felicie?
You are not ill, are you?
What are you doing there ?" "I am looking for something." "In my wardrobe ?" "Yes, mamma." "Will you kindly go back to your bed! You will catch cold.