“Ah! my dear monsieur, more than one scamp has come to-day! And they have turned my mistress out of doors!” “Turned her out! That isn’t possible, ten thousand dead men!” “It is true, however.” “What were they? brigands, robbers?” “No, no, monsieur, they were bailiffs, creditors, what do I know? They showed madame some papers, and told her that she wasn’t in her own house any longer. Poor woman! she cried, but she didn’t make any answer; she just did her clothes up in a bundle, took her daughter in her arms, and left.” “Left! She has gone away? Is it possible? The villain! he has reduced her to destitution!” “Monsieur Jacques, I tell you there was a lot of them. Look, here’s the placard; this house is for sale now, and they left me here, so that there might be some one to show it to people.” “Do you know where Madame Murville has gone?” “Bless me! she took the Paris road.” “She has gone to join him.” “Yes, no doubt she has gone to her husband; but look you, between ourselves, they say that he is a regular good-for-nothing; that he raises the devil at Paris; and you must agree, Monsieur Jacques, that when one has a pretty, good, young wife like madame--For, bless my soul, she is virtue and goodness personified! And then a child, which will be its mother’s portrait; well, I say, when a man has all that, and forgets them all the year round, it ain’t right, and it don’t speak well for him.” Jacques, having taken his leave of the gardener, cast a last glance at the house and walked sadly away from the village. A thousand plans passed through his mind; he thought of going to Paris to look for Adeline; he thought of speaking to his brother, reproaching him for his evil conduct, and making him ashamed of the destitution in which he had left his wife; with his mind filled with such thoughts as these, he arrived at the farm. His friends there questioned him; they grieved with him, but still they hoped that Madame Murville would come to see them. Sans-Souci shared that hope; he encouraged his comrade, and urged him to wait a few days before taking any steps. Jacques’s patience was beginning to be exhausted; he was on the point of leaving the farm and going to Paris, when one morning the joyous outcry of the children announced some good news. It was Adeline, who appeared at the farm with her little Ermance. Everybody ran to meet her; they surrounded her, pressed against her, embraced her, and manifested the most sincere joy. Adeline, deeply moved by the attachment of the peasants, found that she could still feel a sensation of pleasure. “Ah!” she said to them, “I have not lost all, since I still have sincere friends.”