Louise understood it. "I steal!" cried she, and the cheeks colored with generous indignation. Her tone of voice, her gesture, satisfied her father. "I knew it!" he cried. "Do you see, sir--she denies it--and never in her life has she lied, I swear to you. Ask every one who knows her, and they will say the same. She lie? she is too proud for that. Besides, the bill was paid by our benefactor. She don't want gold; she was going to return it to the person who lent it, wasn't you, Louise?" "Your daughter is not accused of theft," said the magistrate. "But of what is she accused, then? I, her father, swear that, whatever she is accused of, she is innocent; and all my life I have never lied." "What good will it do to know what she is accused of?" said Rudolph to him; "her innocence shall be proven--the person who interests herself so much in you will protect your daughter. Come, come. This time, again, Providence will not fail you. Embrace your daughter--you will soon see her again." "M. le Commissaire," cried Morel, without listening to Rudolph, "a daughter is not taken away from a father without at least telling him of what she is accused! I wish to know all! Louise, will you speak?" "Your daughter is accused--of infanticide," said the magistrate. "I--I--do not comprehend--I--you--" "Your daughter is accused of having killed her child," said the officer, much overcome at this scene. "But it is not yet proved that she has committed this crime." "Oh, no, it is not so, sir, it is not so," cried Louise, with force, and raising herself up: "I swear to you it was dead. It breathed no more; it was frozen; I lost all consciousness; that is my crime. But kill my child, oh, never!" "Your child, wretch!" cried Morel, raising his hands to Louise, as if he wished to annihilate her with this gesture and terrible imprecation. "Pardon, father, pardon!" cried she. After a moment of frightful silence, Morel went on with a calmness still more frightful. "Sir, take away this creature; she is not my child." He wished to go out; Louise threw herself at his knees, which she embraced with both arms, and, with face upward, frantic and supplicating, she cried, "Father, listen to me, only listen to me." "Officer, take her away, I abandon her to you," said the artisan, making every effort to disengage himself from the embraces of Louise. "Listen to her," said Rudolph, stopping him; "do not be now without pity." "She, she!" repeated Morel, burying his face in his hands, "she dishonored! oh! infamous, infamous!" "Is she dishonored to save you?" whispered Rudolph. These words made a startling impression on Morel; he looked at his weeping child, still kneeling at his feet, then, interrogating her with a look impossible to describe, he cried in a hollow voice, his teeth grinding with rage, "The notary!" An answer came to the lips of Louise. She was about to speak, but, on reflection, she stopped, bent her head, and remained silent.