"And the girl----" "Is Madelon," interrupted Desgrais, "Cardillac's daughter. The wretched culprit was her sweetheart, and now she is crying and howling, and screaming over and over again that Olivier is innocent--quite innocent; but she knows all about this crime, and I must have her taken to prison too." As he spoke he cast one of his baleful, malignant looks at the girl, which made Mademoiselle Scuderi shudder. The girl was now beginning to revive, and breathe again faintly, though still incapable of speech or motion. There she lay with closed eyes, and people did not know what to do, whether to take her indoors, or leave her where she was a little longer till she recovered. Mademoiselle Scuderi looked upon this innocent creature deeply moved, with tears in her eyes. She felt a horror of Desgrais and his men. Presently heavy footsteps came downstairs, those of the men bearing Cardillac's body. Coming to a rapid decision, Mademoiselle Scuderi cried out, "I shall take this girl home with me; the rest of the affair concerns you, Desgrais." A murmur of approval ran through the crowd. The women raised the girl; every one crowded up; a hundred hands were proffered to help, and she was borne to the carriage like one hovering in air, whilst from every lip broke blessings on the kind lady who had saved her from arrest and criminal trial. Madelon lay for many hours in deep unconsciousness, but at length the efforts of Seron---then the most celebrated physician in Paris--were successful in restoring her. Mademoiselle Scuderi completed what Seron had commenced, by letting many a gentle ray of hope stream into the girl's heart, till at length a violent flood of tears, which started to her eyes, brought her relief, and she was able to tell what had befallen, with only occasional interruptions, when the overmastering might of her sorrow turned her words into sobbing.