"Since madame wishes me to point out to her such of our prisoners as have by good conduct, or sincere repentance, deserved that an interest should be taken in them, I believe I can mention to her a poor girl whom I believe to be more unfortunate than culpable; for I am not deceived when I say that it is not too late to save this young girl, an unhappy creature of not more than sixteen or seventeen years of age." "And for what is she imprisoned?" "She is guilty of being found in the Champs Elysees in the evening. As it is prohibited to such females, under very severe penalties, to frequent, by day or night, certain public places, and as the Champs Elysees are in the number of the forbidden promenades, she was apprehended." "And does she appear to you interesting?" "I never saw features more regular, more ingenuous. Picture to yourself, my lady, the face of a Virgin; and what adds still more to the expression of modesty in her countenance is that, on coming here, she was dressed like a peasant girl of the environs of Paris." "She is, then, a country girl?" "No, my lady; the inspectors knew her again. She had lived for some weeks in a horrible abode in the Cite, from which she has been absent for two or three months; but, as she had not demanded the erasure of her name from the police registries, she comes under the power of that body, which has sent her hither." "But, perhaps, she had quitted Paris to try and reinstate herself?" "I think so, madame; and it is therefore I have taken such an interest in her. I have questioned her as to her past life, inquired if she came from the country, and told her to hope, as I did myself, that she might still return to a course of good life." "And what reply did she make?" "Lifting her full and melancholy blue eyes on me, filled with tears, she said, with angelic sweetness, 'I thank you, madame, for your kindness; but I cannot say one word as to the past; I was apprehended,--I was doing wrong, and I do not therefore complain.' 'But where do you come from? Where have you been since you quitted the Cite? If you went into the country to seek an honest livelihood, say so, and prove it. We will write to the prefect to obtain your liberty, your name will be scratched off the police register, and you will be encouraged in your good resolutions.' 'I beseech you, madame, do not ask me; I cannot answer you,' she replied. 'But, on leaving this house, would you return again to that place of infamy?' 'Oh, never!' she exclaimed. 'What, then, will you do?' 'God only knows!' she replied, letting her head fall on her bosom." "Very singular! And she expresses herself--"