of the Varietes." "Ah! then I know why your face from the first seemed familiar to me," said Marguerite, this time with unaffected cordiality.

"I must have applauded you many a time in the olden days.

I am an ex-colleague, you know.

My name was St.Just before I married, and I was of the Maison Moliere." "I knew that," said Desiree Candeille, "and half hoped that you would remember me." "Nay! who could forget Demoiselle Candeille, the most popular star in the theatrical firmament ?" "Oh! that was so long ago." "Only four years." "A fallen star is soon lost out of sight." "Why fallen ?" "It was a choice for me between exile from France and the guillotine," rejoined Candeille simply.
"Surely not ?" queried Marguerite with a touch of genuine sympathy.
With characteristic impulsiveness, she had now cast aside her former misgivings: she had conquered her mistrust, at any rate had relegated it to the background of her mind.

This woman was a colleague: she had suffered and was in distress; she had every claim, therefore, on a compatriot's help and friendship.