"Well, madame, what do you desire? The declaration of decease is perfectly in order. The hundred and fifty thousand francs came to my client, M. Petit-Jean, on the death of the child. It is one of the chances of life-annuities, as I remarked to the person who placed the affair in my hands. As to the pension, it was duly paid by me up to the time of the child's decease." "I am ready to declare, sir, that nothing could be more satisfactory than your conduct throughout the whole of the affair. The female who had charge of the child is also entitled to our gratitude, for she took the greatest care of my poor little niece." "True, madame. And I was so much satisfied with her conduct, that, seeing her out of place after the death of the child, I took her into my employment; and, since that time, she has remained with me." "Is Madame Seraphin in your service, sir?" "She has been my housekeeper these fourteen years, and I must ever speak in her praise." "Since that is the case, sir, she may be of the greatest use to us, if you will kindly grant me a request, which may appear strange, perhaps even culpable, at first sight, but when you know the motive--" "A culpable request, madame, is what I cannot believe you capable of addressing to me." "Sir, I am acquainted with the rectitude of your principles; but all my hope--my only hope--is in your pity. Under any event, I may rely on your discretion?" "Madame, you may." "Well, then, I will proceed. The death of this poor child was so great a shock to her mother, that her grief is as great now as it was fourteen years since, and, having then feared for her life, we are now in dread for her reason." "Poor mother!" said M. Ferrand, in a tone of sympathy. "Oh, yes, poor unhappy mother, indeed, sir! for she could only blush at the birth of her child at the time when she lost it; whilst now circumstances are such, that, if the child were still alive, my sister could render her legitimate, be proud of her, and never again allow her to quit her. Thus this incessant regret, coming to add to her other sorrows, we are afraid every hour lest she should be bereft of her senses." "It is unfortunate that nothing can be done in the matter." "Yes, sir--" "What, madame?" "Suppose some one told the poor mother, 'Your child was reported to be dead, but she did not die: the woman who had charge of her when she was little could vouch for this.'" "Such a falsehood, madame, would be cruel. Why give so vain a hope to the poor mother?" "But, supposing it were not a falsehood, sir? or, rather, if the supposition could be realised?" "By a miracle? If it only required my prayers to be united with your own to obtain this result, I would give them to you from the bottom of my heart,--believe me, madame. Unfortunately, the register of decease is strictly regular." "Oh, yes, sir, I know well enough that the child is dead; and yet, if you will agree, that misfortune need not be irreparable."