CHAPTER XXXII.
REMEMBRANCES.
Jacque Ferrand had easily and promptly obtained the liberty of
Fleur-de-Marie.
Instructed by La Chouette of the sojourn of La Goualeuse in Saint Lazare, he had immediately addressed himself to one of his clients, an influential man, telling him that a girl, led astray but sincerely repentant, and recently confined in Saint Lazare, ran the risk, from contact with the other prisoners, of having her good resolutions weakened. This girl had been strongly recommended to him by some respectable people, who would take charge of her as soon as she left the prison. Jacques Ferrand had added, he begged his all-powerful client, in the name of morality, of religion, and of the future rehabilitation of this unfortunate, to solicit her discharge. Finally, the notary, so as to completely conceal his part in the transaction, particularly requested his client not to name him in the accomplishment of this good work; this wish, attributed to the philanthropic modesty of Jacques Ferrand, was scrupulously observed; the release of Fleur-de-Marie was demanded and obtained solely in the name of the client, who, as soon as it was received, sent it to Jacques Ferrand that he might address it to the protectors of the girl.
Mrs. Seraphin, on giving this order to the directors of the prison, added that she was charged to conduct La Goualeuse to her friends. From the excellent account given by the inspectress to Madame d'Harville, no one doubted that she owed her freedom to the intervention of the marchioness. Thus the notary's housekeeper could in no way excite the suspicions of her victim.
Mrs. Seraphin had, as occasion required, the air of a good soul; it required very close observation to remark something insidious, false and cruel in her crafty look, her hypocritical smile.
In spite of her profound wickedness, which had made her the accomplice or confidante of her master's crimes, Mrs. Seraphin could not help being struck with the touching beauty of this girl, delivered by herself when quite a child to La Chouette, whom she was then about to conduct to certain death.
"Well, my dear," said she, in honeyed tones, "you must be delighted to get out of prison."
"Oh! yes, ma'am; and, doubtless, I owe my deliverance to the protection of Madame d'Harville, who has been so kind to me?"
"You are not mistaken. But come, we are rather late, and we have got a long road to travel."