She sat down on a stone bench; the passers-by glanced at her, but went on; they would have stopped if, instead of a woman weeping over a child, they had seen a cat fighting with Polichinello. Luckily, it was midsummer; the weather was beautiful, and the approach of night did not drive people indoors. The dumb girl entered a pastry-cook's shop and bought cakes for her child, offering a garment from her bundle in payment; but they gave it back, looking at her with compassion and surprise; for her appearance did not denote poverty, and they could not understand her having no money. She tried to walk on, but the darkness increased her terror tenfold, and, despite the lamps in the streets, the clatter of the horses' feet seemed to her more terrifying than ever; she was in mortal dread of being run over with her son by the carriages which often surrounded her on every side; so she sat down again on a bench. At this time she was on Rue Montmartre; several times during the day, she had walked through Rue de Provence and had passed Monsieur de Montreville's house; but the poor child did not know it. It was impossible now for her to find her lodging-house, and she was on the point of giving way to despair; but she pressed her son to her heart, and tried to recover her strength by covering him with kisses. The child smiled at her and played with her hair; he was at the age at which a child does not know what unhappiness is when he is in his mother's arms. The night advanced; the shops were closing, the pedestrians becoming less numerous, the carriages passed at longer intervals. Sister Anne raised her eyes and looked about her with a little more confidence. Where should she ask shelter for the night? She felt lost amid all those buildings; she dared not apply anywhere. She gazed imploringly at those who passed her, and several men stopped to look at her. "She's very pretty!" they said; but as soon as she held out her child, they walked on. "Great God!" thought the unhappy girl; "don't the people of Paris love children? they walk away very fast as soon as I show them mine." About midnight, a patrol passed through the street. As they drew near, she shuddered; one of the soldiers went up to her, and said: "Come, come! what are you doing here with your child? Go home, or we'll take you to the guard-house!" The man's harsh tone made her tremble; she rose hastily and hurried away, with her child in her arms. But before she had gone a hundred yards, she discovered that she had left her bundle of clothes on the bench. She went back to look for it, and found the place where she had been sitting; but, alas! her clothes had already disappeared. They were the unfortunate creature's last resource.