LOTTIS DUVAL.

 On that same April night of which so much has
 already been said in the former chapters, the Countess
 St. Clair, dressed for the theatre, was descending the
 broad stairs which led from her splendid apartments
 to the courtyard, where her carriage was already
 waiting. Two servants in rich liveries were attending
 her with lights, and she had reached the first landing-
 place, when a little boy, almost breathless with run-
 ning, and seemingly much terrified, hastily passed
 her, and making a false step, stumbled and fell on the
 stairs. The next moment a stout man, in the dress of
 a baker, with a cotton nightcap on his head, followed,
 and seizing the prostrate child, was roughly dragging
 him away.
 As the angry man and sobbing boy passed the lady,
who stood looking on, wondering what it all could
mean, the baker bowed.
 Pardon my rudeness, madame," he said; "I beg
ten thousand pardons, but this young rogue "
 "Poor little fellow !" exclaimed the Countess,
interrupting the baker; "what can he have done
wrong ?"
 The tone of pity served to recall the boy to his
senses. He tore himself from the grasp of his captor,
and cast himself at the lady's feet.
 "Madame, madame, have pity," he cried. "Do
not let them send me to prison, dear lady, kind lady!
I did not mean, madame -- I could not help it,
madame. It was for my grandmother."
 "What does it all mean ?" asked the lady.
 "Ce jeune larron, madame, this young rogue, this
little thief, entered my shop, and stole a loaf. See
madame, here it is;" and saying this, the injured
baker picked up from the landing a small loaf which
had fallen from the child's hand, and had rolled un-