Before he entered the house Sidonie said: “You are going to St. Benoit, are you not?” “Yes,” he replied. On entering the house he shouted: “Wife, warm up something for the little one. She is Bruno’s best friend.” “Say not so, Jean, say not so.” “Why, you love him, do you not?” “Oh, if--but----” “I owe him a favor. And I will save him if I can. You eat something, change your clothing, and then we will start.” He had seen the condition of her garments, and out of solicitude for her had suggested that she discard them for dry ones. “But why should I change my clothing? At the end of a quarter of an hour I shall be as wet as ever.” “No. You will see. But we must not waste time. Make haste, child.--Wife, give her some dry clothing.” Sidonie submitted. Jean’s wife, a bright, alert little woman, with large brown eyes and a delicate skin, contrasted strongly with her husband. “Beauty and the Beast” people called them. Jeanne appeared surprisingly happy. There was not a wrinkle on her brow, and her frank, honest eyes and smiling, tender mouth spoke well for her husband’s love and care. After donning some warm, dry clothing Sidonie ate with a keen relish the homely little repast Jeanne had prepared, for nothing had she eaten since morning. “Now I am going to fix your feet, little one, so you can walk comfortably,” said Jean, when she had finished. Then he carefully bound up her bruised and bleeding feet in soft linen rags, and Jeanne brought out a pair of soft woollen stockings and rubbers of her own as further expedients of relief. Now, warm and carefully protected against the dampness, the little lame girl regained her fortitude and good spirits, and the reaction gave fresh vigor to her weary limbs. “Now come, my child,” said he, as he put on his coat. After tenderly embracing his wife, he took Sidonie’s hand in his and together they started for St. Benoit. As they walked along Sidonie acquainted him with the facts of the case as well as she was able. “Yes, I agree with you, little one. It surely was not Bruno who killed Savin.” “When I saw he had determined to criminate himself, I was perfectly willing to die,” said Sidonie, with a sigh. “Poor child, I understand,” replied Jean, consolingly. “It was Jeannille Marselon who thought of _you_ first.” “Jeannille Marselon!” “Yes. She said to me: ‘Go and find L’Ours, child.’” “Brave woman! For once in her life she spoke well.” “And so I came. I remembered your love for Bruno, and knew you would help him if anybody would. And you _will_ save him, dear, good Jean, won’t you?” “Yes. He shall not go to prison.” “Oh, Jean, how good you are!” “No, no, child. It is he that is good and noble. Listen. No one knows why I would die for Bruno. But I am going to tell _you_, because you appreciate his worth.” “Oh, yes, tell me.”