"But once I had red cheeks," in a faint voice.
"Then thou wouldst have been a red Rose."
She sang a delicious little chanson to a red rose from a lover. The child sighed in great content.
"Were they good to you down there? That woman seemed—well, hard. And were you left all alone?"
Rose began to tell the story of how the husband came home, and Madame Giffard could see that she shrank from him. "And when she woke they had all gone away. There was nothing to eat."
"Merci! How careless and unkind!" But Madame Giffard could not know the little slave boys had ransacked the place.
"I was not hungry. And it was so delightful to walk about again. Though I trembled all over and thought I should fall down."
"As you did. Now I have ordered you some good broth. And you must lie still to get rested."
"But it is so nice to talk. You were so beautiful yesterday I was afraid. I never saw such fine clothes."
Madame Giffard was in a soft gray gown to-day that had long wrinkled sleeves, a very short waist, and a square neck filled in with ruffles that stood up in a stiff fashion. She looked very quaint and pretty, more approachable, though the child felt rather than understood.