"I will tell you all I know. A lady of my acquaintance, Madame d'Harville, came to me to inquire whether or not I knew a widow lady whose daughter was named Claire, and whose brother had committed suicide. Madame d'Harville inquired of me because she had seen these words, 'Write to Madame de Lucenay,' written at the bottom of a rough sketch of a letter which this unfortunate lady was writing to some stranger of whom she was asking assistance."
"She wished to write to you; and wherefore to you?"
"I cannot solve your question."
"But she knew you, it would seem," said M. de Saint-Remy, struck with a sudden idea.
"What mean you?"
"She had heard me speak of your father a hundred times, as well as of you and your generous and excellent heart. In her misfortune, it occurred to her to address you."
"That really does explain this."
"And Madame d'Harville—tell me, how did she get this sketch of a letter into her possession?"
"That I do not know; all I can say is, that, without knowing whither this poor mother and child had gone for refuge, she was, I believe, on the trace of them."
"Then I rely on you, Clotilde, to introduce me to Madame d'Harville. I must see her this very day."