"This is she," said I, pointing to my cousin.
"Then you are the one that saved my cat," she said. "How can I thank you enough, Mademoiselle? For that cat is my one consolation. If you would be kind enough to visit me sometime, I would be so pleased to see you."
Paula looked at her in surprise, and said, "I will ask Teresa if we may come to see you." Which permission Teresa readily gave.
"It's Louisa. I know her well. She has lived in that little hut for fifteen years. True, she is a bit weak in her head but she would never hurt a fly. Speak to her of the Lord Jesus, Paula! It will do her good."
On the following Thursday, therefore, we went to visit her. As we left the house, Teresa handed us a jar of preserves, saying, "Give Louisa this. Poor thing! Not many good things have come into her life."
Louisa herself answered our knock, "Ah," she said, "please excuse the disorder. If I had known you were coming today I would have straightened things a bit. Sit down here, on this box, Mesdemoiselles. I am sorry that I have no chairs to offer you. Ah, here comes Cordero!" she continued, and we could hardly recognize the beautiful black cat that jumped purring into Paula's lap, as the same cadaverous animal that was swinging around Joseph's head a few days before.
"It's my one friend," said the poor old woman, sitting down on another box.
"Do you believe that?" said Paula. "Can you not call us your friends? And there's another friend who has sent you a present. Our Teresa sent this for you." She placed in the eager hands of the old woman the preserves.
"Is it for me? How can I thank you? For years everybody has made fun of me, for I never speak to anyone; preferring the company of animals to that of people."
Paula had such a sympathetic way of getting at people's hearts, that instinctively she understood how lonely Louisa had been.