“Let us hunt for Adeline and her child,” said Jacques, in a gloomy voice, “and forget Edouard. I am beginning to fear that the wretch--let us look for Adeline; she will never make me blush.” “Oh! for her I would rush into the hottest fire.” “Poor woman! poor little Ermance! Where are they now? Perhaps her grief at learning that her husband--oh! why did you tell her that, Sans-Souci?” “Don’t mention it. I would to God that you would use my tongue for a cartridge.” “There is no rest for me until I know what has become of them. Let us search Paris and enquire at every house if necessary; and if we don’t find them in this city, let us search the whole of France, towns, hamlets, villages.” “Corbleu! yes, we will go to the devil if necessary! But we will find them, comrade, we will find them, I tell you that.” Jacques and his companion took rooms at a poor inn; they were on foot with the dawn, and scoured every quarter of the city, enquiring everywhere for Adeline and her child; but no one could give them any information concerning the young woman whom they sought. The sight of unfortunate people is so common that little attention is paid to them. However, sometimes the abode of some poor mother was pointed out to them; they would visit her, and find that she was not the object of their search. On the eleventh day after their arrival in Paris, Jacques and Sans-Souci were walking on the boulevard, always thinking of Adeline and cudgeling their brains to divine what could have become of her. Suddenly the people on the sidewalk pressed toward the driveway, seemingly awaiting some curious sight. “What is going by?” Sans-Souci asked a workman who had stopped near him. “It’s the chain of convicts, starting from Bicêtre to go to the galleys at Toulon,” was the reply. “See, here, here’s the wagon coming now; we shall see them in a minute.” “It is hardly worth while to crowd so to see a parcel of villains,” said Sans-Souci. “They ask for alms on the road.” “If they had any pluck, they would ask to be shot.--Come, Jacques, let’s not stay here; I haven’t any pity for those fellows.” “I want to stay,” said Jacques with emotion; “I want to see them.”