‘My friend,’ answered Gabrielle, earnestly and vehemently; ‘I shall go to Paris, if I go on foot, and I shall see what can be done. I will implore the queen on my knees to use her influence to obtain the release of Madame Berthier.’ ‘You forget; that lady is not shut up as a political offender, but because she is insane.’ ‘I will do what I can,’ answered the girl, simply. ‘She has no one else to assist her--no one else to speak for her.’ ‘You are only a peasant-girl.’ ‘Well! what was Madame Legros?’ ‘Are you resolved?’ She put her hand on her heart. ‘I must go,’ she said. ‘I have no rest here. I shall have no rest till I have done my utmost.’ ‘Paris is a dangerous place for a young and pretty maiden.’ ‘Ah! Monsieur Étienne, the good God, who raised up a protectress for me in my need before, will deliver me in any future peril.’ ‘What have you to live upon in Paris?’ ‘I do not know.’ ‘You must bear in mind that great distress exists there, that money is scarce and provisions are dear.’ ‘God will provide.’ ‘He will provide if He calls you there, not otherwise.’ ‘Is it not His call that I hear now?’ asked the girl, her face brightening with enthusiasm. ‘My friend, my father’s friend, listen to me. There is a something within me, I cannot tell you what it is, which draws me from this place after my dear, unfortunate madame. Only yesterday I was walking in the wood above La Couture. I went to pray at a crucifix which I well know, for it was there that M. Lindet first stood my champion against him whom I will not name. I prayed there--I cannot tell you for how long, and I asked for a sign--a sign what I was to do.’ She paused timidly, dropped her eyes, and continued in a whisper: ‘Whilst I was on my knees, all on an instant I felt something leap upon my shoulder.’ ‘Well, child, what was it?’ asked Percenez with a smile. ‘It was Madame Berthier’s yellow cat, it looked so lean and neglected, and its yellow dye was nearly worn off it. It knew me, for it rubbed its head against my cheek.’ ‘Nonsense, Gabrielle, do you call _that_ a sign?’ ‘Yes, Monsieur Étienne, it was a sign to me. It would not have been so to anyone else, may be, but I know what that cat was to the poor lady, I know what she suffers now in being separated from it; and, if it were only to restore her cat to her, I would walk barefoot all the way to Paris.’ ‘I suspect the only success you will meet with will be that.’ ‘Well, and that will be something.’ ‘You are a resolute girl.’ ‘Monsieur Étienne, I _must_ go.’ ‘Why so?’ ‘If I did not go, I should die.’ The little brown man looked fixedly at her, and then said: