"Yes, with his family, in a solitary house. He is always warring with the river-keepers; and when once he is in his boat, with his double-barreled gun, it's no good to approach him!" said La Louve, proudly. "What is his trade?" "He fishes by stealth at night; his father had some _misunderstanding_ with justice. He has still a mother, two sisters, and a brother. It would be better for him not to have such a brother, for he is a scoundrel, who will be guillotined one of these days; his sisters also. However, never mind, their necks belong to themselves." "Where did you first meet Martial?" "In Paris. He wished to learn the trade of a locksmith; a fine trade, always red-hot iron and fire around one, and danger, too; that suited him, but, like me, he had a bad head--couldn't agree with the slow-pokes: so he returned to his family, and began to maraud on the river. He came to Paris to see me, and I went to see him at Asnieres; it is very near; but if it had been further, I should have gone, even if I had been obliged to go on my hands and knees." "You will be very happy to go to the country, you, La Louve," said the Goualeuse, sighing; "above all, if you love, as I do, to walk in the fields." "I prefer to walk in the woods--in the large forests, with Martial!" "In forests? are you not afraid?" "Afraid! Is a wolf afraid? The thicker and darker the forest, the more I like it. A lonely hut, where I should live with Martial, who should be a poacher; to go with him at night, to set traps for the game; and then, if the guards come to arrest us, to fire on them, hiding in the bushes--ah! that's what I like!" "You have lived in a, forest. La Louve?" "Never." "Who gave you such ideas?" "Martial. He was a poacher in Rambouillet Wood. About a year ago he was _looked upon_ as having fired upon a guard who had fired upon him--villain of a guard! It was not proved in court, but Martial was obliged to leave. So he then came to Paris to learn a trade; as I said, he left and went to maraud on the river; it is less slavish. But he always regrets the woods, and will return there some day or other." "And, La Louve, where are your parents?" "Do you think I know!" "Is it a long time since you have seen them?" "I do not know if they are dead or alive." Fleur-de-Marie, although plunged very young into an atmosphere of corruption, had since respired an air so pure, that she experienced a painful oppression at the horrid story of La Louve. Suppressing the emotion which the sad confession of her companion had caused her, she said to her, timidly, "Listen to me without being angry." "Come, say on; I hope I have talked enough; but, in truth, all the same, since it is the last time we shall converse together." "Are you happy, La Louve?" "What do you mean?" "With the life you lead?" "Here at Saint Lazare?" "No; at your home, when you are free." "Yes, I am happy." "Always?" "Always." "You would not change your lot for any other?"