Mother Bunch shook her head sorrowfully; a tear glittered in her eyes, as she continued: “It was still dark when I arrived at the Rue de Babylone; I waited till daylight was come.”
“Poor child! you, who are so weak and timid,” said Frances, with deep feeling, “to go so far, and in this dreadful weather!—Oh, you have been a real daughter to me!”
“Has not Agricola been like a brother to me!” said Mother Bunch, softly, with a slight blush.
“When it was daylight,” she resumed: “I ventured to ring at the door of the little summer-house; a charming young girl, but with a sad, pale countenance, opened the door to me. ‘I come in the name of an unfortunate mother in despair,’ said I to her immediately, for I was so poorly dressed that I feared to be sent away as a beggar; but seeing, on the contrary, that the young girl listened to me with kindness, I asked her if, the day before, a young workman had not come to solicit a great favor of her mistress. ‘Alas! yes,’ answered the young girl; ‘my mistress was going to interest herself for him, and, hearing that he was in danger of being arrested, she concealed him here; unfortunately, his retreat was discovered, and yesterday afternoon, at four o’clock, he was arrested and taken to prison.’”
Though the orphans took no part in this melancholy conversation, the sorrow and anxiety depicted in their countenances, showed how much they felt for the sufferings of Dagobert’s wife.
“But the young lady?” cried Frances. “You should have tried to see her, my good Mother Bunch, and begged her not to abandon my son. She is so rich that she must have influence, and her protection might save us from great calamities.”
“Alas!” said Mother Bunch, with bitter grief, “we must renounce this last hope.”
“Why?” said Frances. “If this young lady is so good, she will have pity upon us, when she knows that my son is the only support of a whole family, and that for him to go to prison is worse than for another, because it will reduce us all to the greatest misery.”
“But this young lady,” replied the girl, “according to what I learned from her weeping maid, was taken last evening to a lunatic asylum: it appears she is mad.”
“Mad! Oh! it is horrible for her, and for us also—for now there is no hope. What will become of us without my son? Oh, merciful heaven!” The unfortunate woman hid her face in her hands.