I can't tell why I was overcome by the action, as if there were something marvellous in it. But, in good truth, if the child was not hers, Brulette at that moment was transformed before my eyes. This girl, so proud-spirited that she wouldn't have shrunk before the king six months ago, and who that very morning had had all the lads of the neighborhood, rich and poor, at her knee, had gathered such pity and Christianity into her heart that she thought herself rewarded for all her trouble by the first kisses of an odious little slobberer, who had no pleasant ways and indeed seemed half-idiotic. The tears were in my eyes, thinking of what those kisses cost her, and taking Charlot on my shoulder, I carried him back with her to her own door. Twenty times I had it on my tongue to ask her the truth; for if she had done wrong as to Charlot, I was ready to forgive her the sin, but if, on the contrary, she was bearing the burden of other people's guilt, I desired to kiss her feet as the sweetest and most patient winner of Paradise. But I dared not ask her any questions, and when I told my doubts to my sister, who was no fool, she replied: "If you dare not question her it is because in the depths of your heart you know her to be innocent. Besides," she added, "such a fine girl would have manufactured a better-looking boy. He is no more like her than a potato is like a rose." TWENTY-FIRST EVENING. The winter passed and the spring came, but Brulette never went back to her amusements. She did not even regret them, having seen that she could still be mistress of all hearts if she chose; but she said that so many men and women had betrayed her friendship that now she should care for quality only, not quantity. The poor child did not then know all the wrong that had been done to her. Everybody had vilified her, but no one had yet dared to insult her. When they looked at her they saw virtue written on her face; but when her back was turned they revenged themselves in words, for the respect which they could not help feeling, and they yelped at her heels like a cowardly dog that dares not spring at your face. Père Brulet was getting old; he grew deafer, and lived so much in himself, like all aged people, that he paid no attention to the talk of the town. Father and daughter were therefore less troubled than people hoped to make them, and my own father, who was of a wise and Christian spirit (as were the rest of my family), advised me, and also set me the example, not to worry them about it, saying that the truth would come to light some day and the wicked tongues be punished.