reproach, until one day Monsieur Alphonse's parents took him away,
and the desolated soi-disant Madame Alphonse, in a cheerful burst of
confidence, gave Helen her private opinion of monsieur, and from her
seventeen years' experience warned the American infant of twenty against
possible similar complications.
One day--it was near the examination for prizes, and her funds were
running low--she was obliged to seek one of those humbler restaurants
she knew of for her frugal breakfast. But she was not hungry, and after
a few mouthfuls left her meal unfinished as a young man entered and half
abstractedly took a seat at her table. She had already moved towards
the comptoir to pay her few sous, when, chancing to look up in a mirror
which hung above the counter, reflecting the interior of the cafe, she
saw the stranger, after casting a hurried glance around him, remove
from her plate the broken roll and even the crumbs she had left, and
as hurriedly sweep them into his pocket-handkerchief. There was nothing
very strange in this; she had seen something like it before in these
humbler cafes,--it was a crib for the birds in the Tuileries Gardens,
or the poor artist's substitute for rubber in correcting his crayon
drawing! But there was a singular flushing of his handsome face in the
act that stirred her with a strange pity, made her own cheek hot with
sympathy, and compelled her to look at him more attentively. The back
that was turned towards her was broad-shouldered and symmetrical, and
showed a frame that seemed to require stronger nourishment than the
simple coffee and roll he had ordered and was devouring slowly. His
clothes, well made though worn, fitted him in a smart, soldier-like way,
and accentuated his decided military bearing. The singular use of his
left hand in lifting his cup made her uneasy, until a slight movement
revealed the fact that his right sleeve was empty and pinned to his
coat. He was one-armed. She turned her compassionate eyes aside, yet
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