"Then there is yet another child?"
"Was," replied the young man, sadly. "For Louise, who was two years younger than Andrée, disappeared one day——"
"Yes; and has never been heard of to this date. She was scarcely three years old. Whether she wandered away or was stolen, is dead or living, we do not know. She was never seen again."
"What a terrible blow! What a terrible blow!" murmured the elder Marot, thinking of the unhappy mother.
Mlle. Fouchette had reappeared a few moments before,—just in time to hear this family history. But she immediately returned to the kitchen, where she sank upon a low stool and bowed her face in her hands.
"Fouchette! Here, Fouchette!"
It was Jean's peremptory voice.
She hastily roused herself. She re-entered the little salon, and upon a sign from Jean conducted Henri Lerouge and his sister to Jean's bedroom, where she assisted Mlle. Remy to remove her hat. For up to this time the party had been grouped in running conversation without having settled down.
"How you tremble, child!" exclaimed Andrée,—"and you look so scared and pale. Is it, then, so bad as all that? What is the matter? Have they been quarrelling? I don't understand."