"Far from it, my lady; none of them knew her before she came here. They were at first struck with her appearance. Her features, although of singular beauty, are, if I may so express myself, covered with a touching and sickly paleness; and this melancholy and gentle countenance at first inspired them with more interest than jealousy. Then she is very silent, another source of surprise for these creatures, who, for the most part, always endeavour to banish thought by making a noise, talking, and moving about. In fact, although reserved and retiring, she showed herself compassionate, which prevented her companions from taking offence at her coldness of manner. This is not all: about a month since, an intractable creature, nicknamed La Louve (the she-wolf), such is her violent and brutal character, became a resident here. She is a woman of twenty years of age, tall, masculine, with good-looking but strongly marked features, and we are sometimes compelled to place her in the black-hole to subdue her violence. The day before yesterday, only, she came out of the cell, still irritated at the punishment she had undergone; it was meal-time, the poor girl of whom I speak could not eat, and said, sorrowfully, to her companions, 'Who will have my bread?' 'I will!' said La Louve. 'I will!' then said a creature almost deformed, called Mont Saint-Jean, who is the laughing-stock and, sometimes in spite of us, the butt of the other prisoners, although several months advanced in pregnancy. The young girl gave her bread to this latter, to the extreme anger of La Louve. 'It was I who asked you for the allowance first!' she exclaimed, furiously. 'That is true; but this poor woman is about to become a mother, and wants it more than you do,' replied the young girl. La Louve, notwithstanding, snatched the bread from the hands of Mont Saint-Jean, and began to wave her knife about, and to vociferate loudly. As she is very evil-disposed and much feared, no one dared take the part of the poor Goualeuse, although all the prisoners silently sided with her."
"What do you call her name, madame?"
"La Goualeuse; it is the name, or rather the nickname, under which they brought her here who is my protégée, and will, I hope, my lady, soon be yours. Almost all of them have borrowed names."
"This is a very singular one."
"It signifies in their horrid jargon 'the singer,' for the young girl has, they told me, a very delightful voice; and I believe it, for her speaking tones are sweetness itself."
"But how did she escape from this wretch, La Louve?"
"Rendered still more furious by the composure of La Goualeuse, she rushed towards her, uttering menaces, and with her uplifted knife in her hand. All the prisoners cried out with fear; La Goualeuse alone, looking at this fierce creature without alarm, smiled at her bitterly and said, in her sweet voice, 'Oh, kill me! Kill me! I am willing to die. But do not make me suffer too great pain!' These words, they told me, were uttered with a simplicity so affecting, that almost all the prisoners burst into tears."
"I can imagine so," said Madame d'Harville, deeply moved.
"The worst characters," continued the inspectress, "have, fortunately, occasional good feelings. When she heard these words, bearing the stamp of such painful resignation, La Louve, touched (as she afterwards declared) to her inmost core, threw her knife on the ground, fell at her feet and exclaimed, 'It was wrong—shameful to threaten you, Goualeuse, for I am stronger than you! You are not afraid of my knife; you are bold—brave! I like brave people; and now, from this day forth, if any dare to molest you, let them beware, for I will defend you.'"
"What a singular being!"