"What a horrible place!" they all exclaimed, starting back in amazement and disgust at the filth and vile odours, and the rats and mice scampering off in all directions. The child lay on the bed nervously watching every movement, wondering what new horror this invasion boded. The municipals put to him many questions about himself, but he had neither the strength nor the courage to answer them. Most of them concluded that he had either become deaf and dumb, or had lost his mind during his confinement Presently one of them noticed his untouched meal of the day before still on the table. "Why do you not eat?" he demanded. The boy raised himself on his arm with a great effort. "Because I wish to die!" he answered quietly. Tears rose to the eyes of one or two of his questioners, and after a hasty consultation they all left the room, closing the door but not barring it. After a while it opened again, and the child awoke from an uneasy sleep to find a slight, thin, kindly-faced little man bending over him. "I am Laurent," said the same gentle voice of the night before, "and I have come to take charge of you!" Some memory of the ungentle cobbler was aroused by the word "charge," and the boy shrank back nervously. Laurent divined his thought. "Do not be afraid!" he went on in the same quiet voice. "I am not like Simon, poor child!" and a kindly hand was laid on the matted hair. Still the boy made no response. He was too sick, too weak, too listless, to care very much what might happen to him now, and he only desired to be left in peace. But Laurent had him moved from his loathsome cell, and placed on a cot in the clean, airy outer room. With the assistance of Caron the cook, he bathed the child in warm water, put on fresh clothes, and gently tried to comb the tangles from his matted hair. Then Louis was given a little fresh fruit to eat, and some milk, in place of the horrible fare on which he had lived for six months. After that Laurent left him to rest and sleep. Words cannot paint the slowly growing amazement of Louis Charles at these changes. So long had he been left to cruel neglect that he could hardly yet comprehend how any kindness remained in the world. And six months of absolute silence had rendered him so unaccustomed to speech, that the good Laurent could not draw from him one word. Many a dumb grateful look had the child given him, but as yet his lips were silent. When Laurent came back with his meal in a few hours, he stroked the boy's head awhile. "Do you feel better, Monsieur Charles?" he inquired. Used as he was to being addressed as "Little Capet," "Wolf-Cub" or worse, the respect and civility in this long-unused title was almost beyond belief! At length his tongue was unloosed.