"Better, Martin, better," replied Jean Charost. "Every hour I feel better."
"Well, thank God, we are out of the city," said Martin Grille. "My heart has been so often in my mouth during this last half hour, that I thought I should bite it if I did but say a word. I wonder which way we are to direct our steps now."
"Toward Bourges, Martin," replied Jacques Cœur, who was riding near.
"Toward Bourges!" said Martin Grille. "Then what's to become of the baby?"
"The baby!" repeated Madame De Brecy, in a tone as full of surprise as that in which Martin had repeated the words "toward Bourges."
"In Heaven's name, what baby?"
Jean Charost laid his hand gently on his mother, saying, "It is very true, dear mother. A young child--quite an infant--has been given into my care, and I have promised to protect and educate her."
"But whose child is she?" asked Madame De Brecy, in a tone of some alarm and consternation.
"I can not tell," replied her son. "I believe she is an orphan; but I am ignorant of all the facts."
"She is an orphan in a double sense," said Jacques Cœur, mingling in the discourse; "at least I believe so. I have nothing to guide me but suspicion, it is true; but my suspicion is strong. Ay, my young friend: you are surprised that I know aught of this affair; but a friend's eye is often as watchful as a parent's. I saw the child, some days after it was given into your charge, and there is a strong likeness--as strong as there can be between an infant and a grown person--between this poor thing and one who is no more."