"Ay! wha's bairn is it?" inquired another voice, that fell with ominous familiarity on her ear, as she turned her head a little and saw the female visitor, a tall, handsome blonde, with bold, blue eyes and a cataraet of golden hair falling on her shoulders.
Sister Francoise did not understand the language of the woman, and turned with a helpless and appealing look to the gentleman, who still speaking French with the slightly defective English accent, replied:
"Madame asks whose child is that?"
"Oh, pardon! We do not know, Monsieur. It was left at our doors on the eighteenth of December last," replied Sister Francoise.
"A very fine child! Its name?"
"Marie Perdue."
"'Marie Perdue?' What? 'Marie Perdue?' What's 'Perdue?'" querulously inquired the tall, blonde beauty.
"'Thrown away,' 'lost,' 'abandoned,'" answered the gentleman, in a low voice.
As he spoke he stood up and turned around.
Salome uttered a low, half-suppressed cry, and covered her face with both hands.