“Unhappily, sir, my strength failed me, and I had the anguish to see you fall back into the sea.”
“I can say nothing more in the way of thanks than what I have already said,” answered Dagobert, with touching simplicity: “in preserving these children you have done more for me than if you had saved my own life. But what heart and courage!” added the soldier, with admiration; “and so young, with such a girlish look!”
“And so,” cried Blanche, joyfully, “our Gabriel came to your aid also?”
“Gabriel!” said Dagobert interrupting Blanche, and addressing himself to the priest. “Is your name Gabriel?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Gabriel!” repeated the soldier, more and more surprised. “And a priest!” added he.
“A priest of the foreign missions.”
“Who—who brought you up?” asked the soldier, with increasing astonishment.
“An excellent and generous woman, whom I revere as the best of mothers: for she had pity on me, a deserted infant, and treated me ever as her son.”
“Frances Baudoin—was it not?” said the soldier, with deep emotion.