"Of course she is,—she is only standing up for her own!"
"Poor thing, she has no one now to do so for her! Why, they have murdered her husband among them! I should think that might content them, without trampling the poor woman under foot."
"One comfort is, nobody can stop her from doing all in her power to bring the murderers of her husband to justice."
"It is a shame to send her away in this manner, like a dog!"
"Can she help it, poor creature, if Miss Clara thinks proper to take up with common girls and thieves, and make them her companions?"
"Infamous to turn an honest woman, a poor widow with helpless children, into the streets for such a base girl as that!"
These different speeches, uttered nearly simultaneously by the surrounding crowd, were rapidly assuming a most hostile and threatening tone, when Clara joyfully exclaimed:
"Thank God, here comes my mother!"
It was, indeed, Madame Dubreuil, who was crossing the courtyard on her return from the pavilion.
"Now, then, my children," said Madame Dubreuil, gaily approaching the assembled group, "will you come in to breakfast? I declare it is quite late! I dare say you are both hungry? Come, Marie!—Clara!"