“And to whom do you give this money, _belle petite_?” asked the baronet,
smiling at her delighted thanks for the gold he placed in her hand.
“To the curés and their vicars, Monsieur,” she said gravely, “who will
distribute it—they know every one so well!” Sir Godfrey mused.
“And you live near us!” he said, thinking of his own daughter, as he
asked her name.
“It is Aimée—and my brother is Armand de l’Orme, an officer at
Versailles. We are orphans, Armand and I, and we do not belong to Paris.
We were both born in the south, in Provence—Were you ever in Provence,
Monsieur—ah, how much more beautiful it is!” With an air of empressement
she clasped her hands, and standing there in the quietly sunny street,
while the stream of the populous chaussée passed athwart its end, the
girl seemed to forget her impatient company beyond, whose whispers and
exclamations at last betrayed them to the surprised glance of Sir
Godfrey. “Was she allowed,” he asked, however, “to make visits from her
convent—for _he_ had a daughter, little older than herself, who had no
companions of her own age in Paris.” And the young quêteuse responded
eagerly to the hint. “Oh, yes—she was allowed—on certain days—and she
would positively come. Indeed—perhaps—mademoiselle herself would assist
at their quête.”
The baronet shook his head, almost starting in his saddle at the
thought. But it struck him suddenly that his oddly-made new
acquaintance, through her friends the curés, might aid him in discovery
of the missing Suzanne Deroux; and she was all readiness and sanguine
expectation when he explained the matter. There was one young vicar in
particular, so mild, so missionnaire, so apostolique, whose acquaintance
with all the poorer quarters was miraculous: she would be able to bring
the news, she was sure, very soon indeed. So giving her, at her request,
the same paper he had recalled from his banker, Sir Godfrey saw her
rejoin her archway amidst the impatient welcome of her companions, and
took his way into the Rue Debilly, with a feeling half-amused,
half-meditative.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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