"Oh no, I entreat you!" said the poor creature, holding the bundle tightly in her hands. "You must give it up." "Yes; take it from her, La Louve." "What is it?" "Well, it is baby's clothes I have commenced for my child. I make them with the old pieces of linen I pick up. It is of no consequence to you, is it?" "Oh, let us see the baby-linen of Mont Saint Jean! Come, come," cried La Louve, snatching the bundle from the hands of Mont Saint Jean. The wretched handkerchief was torn to pieces in the struggle, and its contents, composed of rags and bits of stuff of all colors, were strewn on the ground and trampled under foot, amid shouts of laughter. "What rags! What trash! An old rag shop! Takes more thread than stuff! Here, pick up your duds, Mont Saint Jean!" "How wicked you are! How bad you must be!" cried the poor creature running here and there after the scraps and rags, which she tried to pick up, notwithstanding the blows they gave her. "I have never harmed any one," said she, weeping. "I have offered, if they would let me alone, to do anything for them they wanted; to give them half of my rations, although I am very hungry. Ah, well! no, no, it is just the same. But what must I do for peace? They have not even pity on a poor woman in my condition! They must be more savage than wild beasts! I had so much trouble to collect those little scraps of linen. How do you think I shall do, since I have no money to buy anything?" Suddenly she cried, in an accent of joy, "Oh, now you have come, La Goualeuse, I am saved! Speak to them for me! They will listen to you, surely, for they love you as much as they hate me." The Goualeuse (the Songstress) arriving, the last of the prisoners had entered the yard. CHAPTER XIV. GOUALEUSE AND LOUISE. Before we continue the account of this horrible scene, we must return to the Marchioness d'Harville and Madame Armand, whose conversation had been for a moment interrupted. At the ringing of the bell, the inspectress had hastened to one of the doors which opened into the prison yard, to be ready to prevent by her presence, or calm by her authority, any tumult or quarrels that might arise among the scholars, whose passions, restrained for some time by discipline and employment, only wanted the hour of idleness and recreation to be aroused and excited. Madame Armand had witnessed, in mournful silence, the cruel treatment of which Mont Saint Jean was a victim, and she had already advanced to snatch her from her tormentors, when Fleur-de-Marie appeared. "She is saved!" said she to herself, and returned to the parlor where Madame d'Harville awaited her.