“Nonsense! nonsense! I’m perfectly well, and I congratulate myself that I did not take your advice, as I travelled with a poor woman, whom I found afterward by chance in a most melancholy plight.” Monsieur Gerval told the servant what had happened to him, and the chance which had led to his finding the traveller again in a café, just as those present were talking of taking her to a refuge. Dupré, whose heart was as soft as his master’s, was very impatient to see the young woman and her pretty little girl; he followed his master, who asked to be taken to the room which had been given to Adeline. Edouard’s wife was pacing the floor excitedly, while little Ermance was lying in an armchair. The entrance of Monsieur Gerval and Dupré caused Adeline a moment’s terror; she ran to her daughter and seemed to be afraid that it was their intention to take her away from her. “Don’t be alarmed, madame,” said the old man gently, as he approached her; “it is a friend who has come to comfort you. Tell me your troubles; I shall be able to lighten them, I hope.” “What a crowd there is about me!” said Adeline, glancing wildly about; “what a multitude of people! Why this gathering? Ah! I will not, no, I will not stop on this square. They have come here to gaze on those poor wretches. Let me go! But I cannot; the cruel crowd forces me back. Ah! I must close my eyes, and not look! He is there, close to me!” She fell upon a chair and put her hands before her face. “Poor woman!” said Dupré; “some horrible thing must have happened to her. Do you know, monsieur, that it seems to me that this unfortunate creature belongs to a good family? Her clothes are very simple, almost like a peasant’s; but for all that, I will bet that this woman is no peasant.” “Why, of course not; I can see that as well as you. But how are we to find out who she is? If this child could talk better----” “The little girl is waking up, monsieur; give her some bonbons and try to make out the name she mentions.” Gerval went to Ermance and kissed her; the child recognized him and went to him of her own accord. He gave her bonbons, danced her on his knees, and she lisped the name of Jacques; for it was Jacques who played with her and danced with her every evening. “One would say that she knows you, monsieur,” said Dupré to his master; “I believe it is Jacques she says; just listen.” “Poor child; it is true. Perhaps that is her father’s name. Let us try to find out if that is really the name she is lisping; if it is, her mother knows it without any question.” The old man walked toward Adeline, uttering the name of Jacques in a loud voice. The young woman instantly arose and repeated the name. “Good! she understood us,” whispered Dupré. “You are looking for Jacques,” said Adeline to Monsieur Gerval; “oh! in pity’s name, do not tell him this horrible secret; let him always remain ignorant of his shame! Poor Jacques! he would die of grief. Oh! promise me that you will say nothing to him.”