I looked at her again, and a ray of hope came to me. Perhaps in this unfortunate creature I might find an ally.
“Come,” I said, “this is not the way to help me, to spill my supper. I assure you, Mademoiselle, that I am very hungry.”
She gathered up the bread and meat without a word and gave them to me. I went at them vigorously and without minding the fact that some particles of dirt from the floor still clung to them. She set the candle upright beside her and watched me with eyes dark with apprehension. As I looked at her a thought suddenly occurred to me.
“Was it you,” I asked, “who went to the house in the Rue du Chantre to get Mère Fouchon’s clothing?”
“Yes, Monsieur,” she said.
“And you were on your way there when I picked you up on the quay?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
I smiled grimly as I reflected on the extraordinary chance which had taken me there just in time to save her life.
Suddenly she burst into a flood of tears.
“Oh, you smile!” she sobbed. “You do not understand, then. You do not know that you are to be left here, after we are gone, and that no one will ever find you.”