Christmas stories; Fathers and sons -- Fiction; Paris (France) -- Fiction; Poor -- Fiction; Rich people -- Fiction; Short stories
The good old soul, a veteran with a gray mustache, less for the sake
of the money than out of compassion for the poor father, led him to the
Prefect's private apartments. M. Godefroy was finally ushered into the
room of the man in whom were centred all his hopes. He was in evening
dress, and wore a monocle; his manner was frigid and rather pretentious.
The distressed father, whose knees trembled through emotion, sank into
an armchair, and, bursting into tears, told of the loss of his boy--told
the story stammeringly and with many breaks, for his voice was choked by
sobs.
The Prefect, who was also father of a family, was inwardly moved at the
sight of his visitor's grief, but he repressed his emotion and assumed a
cold and self-important air.
"You say, sir, that your child has been missing since four o'clock?"
"Yes."
"Just when night was falling, confound it. He isn't at all precocious,
speaks very little, doesn't know where he lives, and can't even
pronounce his own name?"
"Unfortunately that is so."
"Not far from Asnieres gate? A suspected quarter. But cheer up. We have
a very intelligent _Commissaire de Police_ there. I'll telephone to
him."
The distressed father was left alone for five minutes. How his temples
throbbed and his heartbeat!
Then, suddenly, the Prefect reappeared, smiling with satisfaction.
"Found!"
Whereupon M. Godefroy rushed to the Prefect, whose hand he pressed till
that functionary winced with the pain.
"I must acknowledge that we were exceedingly fortunate. The little chap
is blond, isn't he? Rather pale? In blue velvet? Black felt hat, with a
white feather in it?"
"Yes, yes; that's he. That's my little Raoul."
"Well, he's at the house of a poor fellow down in that quarter who
had just been at the police office to make his declaration to the
Commissaire. Here's his address, which I took down: '_Pierron, rue des
Cailloux, Levailois-Perret_.' With good horses you may reach your boy
in less than an hour. Certainly, you won't find him in an aristocratic
quarter; his surroundings won't be of the highest. The man who found him
is only a small dealer in vegetables."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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