"Mont Saint-Jean, as I am now free, can I be in any way useful to you?"
The prisoner trembled as she felt La Goualeuse's hand upon her, let her hands drop on her knees, and turned towards the young girl, her face streaming with tears. So bitter a grief overspread the features of Mont Saint-Jean that their ugliness had disappeared.
"What is the matter?" said La Goualeuse. "You are weeping!"
"You are going away!" murmured the poor prisoner, with a voice broken by sobs. "And I had never thought that you would go away, and that I should never see you more,—never, no, never!"
"I assure you that I shall always think of your good feeling towards me, Mont Saint-Jean."
"Oh, and to think how I loved you, when I was sitting there at your feet on the ground! It seemed as if I was saved,—that I had nothing more to fear! It was not for the blows which the other women may, perhaps, begin again to give me that I said that I have led a hard life; but it seemed to me that you were my good fortune, and would bring good luck to my child, just because you had pity on me. But, then, when one is used to be ill-treated, one is then more sensible than others to kindness." Then, interrupting herself, to burst again into a loud fit of sobs,—"Well, well, it's done,—it's finished,—all over! And so it must be some day or other. I was wrong to think any otherwise. It's done—done—done!"
"Courage! Courage! I will think of you, as you will remember me."
"Oh, as to that, they may tear me to pieces before they shall ever make me forget you! I may grow old,—as old as the streets,—but I shall always have your angel face before me. The first word I will teach my child shall be your name, Goualeuse; for but for you it would have perished with cold."
"Listen to me, Mont Saint-Jean!" said Fleur-de-Marie, deeply affected by the attachment of this unhappy woman. "I cannot promise to do anything for you, although I know some very charitable persons; but, for your child, it is a different thing; it is wholly innocent; and the persons of whom I speak will, perhaps, take charge of it, and bring it up, when you can resolve on parting from it."
"Part from it! Never, oh, never!" exclaimed Mont Saint-Jean, with excitement. "What would become of me now, when I have so built upon it?"