Sarah could not control a movement of disgust. "You must know," she resumed, "many people in the lower ranks of life,—persons who are in misfortune?"
"There are more of them than there are of millionaires; you may pick and choose. We have plentiful wretchedness in Paris."
"I want to meet with a poor orphan girl, and particularly if she lost her parents young. She must be good-looking, of gentle disposition, and not more than seventeen years of age."
The Chouette gazed at Sarah with amazement.
"Such an orphan girl must be by no means difficult to meet with," continued the countess; "there are so many foundling children!"
"Why, my good lady, you forget La Goualeuse. She is the very thing."
"Who is La Goualeuse?"
"The young thing we carried off from Bouqueval."
"We are not talking of her now, I tell you."
"But hear me, and be sure you pay me well for my advice. You want an orphan girl, as quiet as a lamb, as handsome as daylight, and who is only seventeen, you say?"