'That is true; but this poor woman is about to become a mother, and wants it more than you do,' replied the young girl. La Louve, notwithstanding, snatched the bread from the hands of Mont Saint-Jean, and began to wave her knife about, and to vociferate loudly. As she is very evil-disposed and much feared, no one dared take the part of the poor Goualeuse, although all the prisoners silently sided with her." "What do you call her name, madame?" "La Goualeuse; it is the name, or rather the nickname, under which they brought her here who is my protegee, and will, I hope, my lady, soon be yours. Almost all of them have borrowed names." "This is a very singular one." "It signifies in their horrid jargon 'the singer,' for the young girl has, they told me, a very delightful voice; and I believe it, for her speaking tones are sweetness itself." "But how did she escape from this wretch, La Louve?" "Rendered still more furious by the composure of La Goualeuse, she rushed towards her, uttering menaces, and with her uplifted knife in her hand. All the prisoners cried out with fear; La Goualeuse alone, looking at this fierce creature without alarm, smiled at her bitterly and said, in her sweet voice, 'Oh, kill me! Kill me! I am willing to die. But do not make me suffer too great pain!' These words, they told me, were uttered with a simplicity so affecting, that almost all the prisoners burst into tears." "I can imagine so," said Madame d'Harville, deeply moved. "The worst characters," continued the inspectress, "have, fortunately, occasional good feelings. When she heard these words, bearing the stamp of such painful resignation, La Louve, touched (as she afterwards declared) to her inmost core, threw her knife on the ground, fell at her feet and exclaimed, 'It was wrong--shameful to threaten you, Goualeuse, for I am stronger than you! You are not afraid of my knife; you are bold--brave! I like brave people; and now, from this day forth, if any dare to molest you, let them beware, for I will defend you.'" "What a singular being!" "This incident strengthened La Goualeuse's influence still more and more. A thing almost unexampled here, none of the prisoners accost her familiarly. The majority are respectful to her, and even proffer to do for her all the little services that prisoners can render to one another. I spoke to some of the women of her dormitory, to learn the reason of this deference which was evinced towards her. 'It is hardly explicable to ourselves,' they replied; 'but it is easy to perceive she is not one of us.' 'But who told you so?' 'No one told us; it is easy to discover it.' 'By what?' 'By a thousand things. In the first place, before she goes to bed, she goes down on her knees and says her prayers; and if she pray, as La Louve says, why, she must have a right to do so.'" "What a strange observation!"