“Oh, sister! do not speak of that. It would indeed be terrible. What would become of us, kind heaven?”
This cruel thought made the girls remain for a moment speechless with emotion. Their sweet faces, which had just before glowed with a noble hope, grew pale and sad. After a pretty long silence, Rose uplifted her eyes, now filled with tears, “Why does this thought,” she said, trembling, “affect us so deeply, sister? My heart sinks within me, as if it were really to happen to us.”
“I feel as frightened as you yourself. Alas! were we both to be lost in this immense city, what would become of us?”
“Do not let us give way to such ideas, Blanche! Are we not here in Dagobert’s house, in the midst of good people?”
“And yet, sister,” said Rose, with a pensive air, “it is perhaps good for us to have had this thought.”
“Why so?”
“Because we shall now find this poor lodging all the better, as it affords a shelter from all our fears. And when, thanks to our labor, we are no longer a burden to any one, what more can we need until the arrival of our father?”
“We shall want for nothing—there you are right—but still, why did this thought occur to us, and why does it weigh so heavily on our minds?”
“Yes, indeed—why? Are we not here in the midst of friends that love us? How could we suppose that we should ever be left alone in Paris? It is impossible that such a misfortune should happen to us—is it not, my dear sister?”
“Impossible!” said Rose, shuddering. “If the day before we reached that village in Germany, where poor Jovial was killed, any one had said to us: ‘To-morrow, you will be in prison’—we should have answered as now: ‘It is impossible. Is not Dagobert here to protect us; what have we to fear?’ And yet, sister, the day after we were in prison at Leipsic.”