"You turn me off the premises then, mademoiselle, do you?" retorted the widow with bitterness. "Well, so be it. Come, my poor children, let us put the things back in the cart, and go and seek our bread elsewhere. God will take care of us. But, at least, when we go, we will take this abandoned young woman with us. She shall be made to tell the mayor, if she won't us, who it was that took away your dear father's life; for she knows well enough--she who was the daily companion of the worst set of ruffians who infest Paris. And you, miss," added she, looking spitefully and insolently at Clara, "you should not, because you choose to make friends with low girls out of the streets, and because you happen to be rich, be quite so hard-hearted and unfeeling to poor creatures like me!" "No more she ought," exclaimed one of the labourers; "the poor woman is right!" "Of course she is,--she is only standing up for her own!" "Poor thing, she has no one now to do so for her! Why, they have murdered her husband among them! I should think that might content them, without trampling the poor woman under foot." "One comfort is, nobody can stop her from doing all in her power to bring the murderers of her husband to justice." "It is a shame to send her away in this manner, like a dog!" "Can she help it, poor creature, if Miss Clara thinks proper to take up with common girls and thieves, and make them her companions?" "Infamous to turn an honest woman, a poor widow with helpless children, into the streets for such a base girl as that!" These different speeches, uttered nearly simultaneously by the surrounding crowd, were rapidly assuming a most hostile and threatening tone, when Clara joyfully exclaimed: "Thank God, here comes my mother!" It was, indeed, Madame Dubreuil, who was crossing the courtyard on her return from the pavilion. "Now, then, my children," said Madame Dubreuil, gaily approaching the assembled group, "will you come in to breakfast? I declare it is quite late! I dare say you are both hungry? Come, Marie!--Clara!" "Mother," cried Clara, pointing to the widow, "you are fortunately just in time to save my dear sister Marie from the insults and violence of that woman. Oh, pray order her away instantly! If you only knew what she had the audacity to say to Marie!" "Impossible, Clara!" "Nay, but, dear mother, only look at my poor dear sister! See how she trembles! She can scarcely support herself. Oh, it is a shame and disgrace such conduct should ever have been offered to a guest of ours! My dear, dear friend--Marie, dear!--look up, and say you are not angry with us. Pray tell me you will try and forget it!" "What is the meaning of all this?" inquired Madame Dubreuil, looking around her with a disturbed and uneasy look, after having observed the despairing agony of the Goualeuse. "Ah, now we shall have justice done the poor widow woman!" murmured the labourers. "Madame will see her righted, no doubt about it!"