“‘Where is he?’ she demanded, weeping.
“The good dame pointed to a mound with the soil fresh upon it. ‘When people sleep a very long time,’ she said, ‘they always are laid to rest in such places. They sleep better there. No one can disturb them. Once I had a little girl who is sleeping thus. I miss her. Will you be my little girl?’
“‘Yes,’ answered Gabrielle, ‘until she wakens and my father wakens. Then I will have mine, I, and you will have your own.’
“After, she learned better to understand those matters. Also, as she grew older, she learned to be very useful. She could drive the cow from the pasture and assist in tending the garden. She could make the soup, the bread. She learned to sew, to knit, and to spin. Sometimes she heard them talk of a wonderful person upon the throne, who was conquering all the world. They called him Napoleon. The Revolution was finished. France was no longer a republic.
“One day, as Gabrielle stood at her spinning-wheel before the door, two travelers rode by. One of them gazed at her attentively. He addressed a few words to the other. They halted and accosted a villager who was passing.
“‘Who is that young girl?’ they asked.
“The villager—it was he with the rough voice—related how the waves had brought her to them, how that he had found her—a sleeping child in the arms of the dead. ‘The man was clad in rags,’ said he, ‘but he was provided with a purse containing much gold, and with a sword.’
“‘It is true,’ said the stranger who had first observed Gabrielle, and who seemed to be the attendant. ‘There was a collector of rags who lodged near us, and who in the crowd, after the escape of my master, complained of the loss of his coat.’
“They requested to see the sword. When it was shown to them, the attendant said, ‘It is the sword of the Marquis. I recognize it by the carving of the hilt.’ Then gazing once more at Gabrielle, he exclaimed, ‘How she is like her mother!’ (She had grown very beautiful.)
“He approached, and seizing her hands, covered them with kisses and with tears. ‘Dost thou not remember me?’ he asked, ‘me, old Antoine?’