"That I know not; but certainly far from Paris."
"And me?"
"You? Why, of course, you go with me!"
"With you?" exclaimed La Louve, with joyful surprise,—she could not credit the reality of such happiness. "And shall I never again be parted from you?"
"No, my brave girl—never! You will help me to bring up my little sister and young brother. I know your heart. When I say to you, 'I greatly wish my poor little Amandine to grow up a virtuous and industrious woman. Just talk to her about it, and show her what to do,' I am quite sure and certain that you will be to her all the best mother could be to her own child."
"Oh, thanks, Martial,—thanks, thanks!"
"We shall live like honest workpeople. Never fear but we shall find work; for we will toil like slaves to content our employers; but, at least, these children will not be depraved and degraded beings like their parents. I shall not continually hear myself taunted with my father and brother's disgraceful end, neither shall I go through streets where you are known. But what is the matter,—what ails you?"
"Oh, Martial, I feel as though I should go mad."
"Mad!—for what?"
"For joy."