"Wait now, my girl," said the brigadier, looking very important. "Don't be so impatient. You must first answer me some questions. And, mind you, answer them correctly. You need not try to deceive the authorities."
Nadine dried her tears, checked her sobs, and faced the man with a frank, fearless countenance. There was no reason why she should conceal anything. She was ready to answer any proper question.
"First of all," began the brigadier. "Where are your parents?"
"Alas! we are orphans," was the reply given in a low tone.
"That is not what I asked you," retorted the officer sharply. "Where are your parents?"
"We have no parents," responded Nadine, the tears returning to her eyes. "We are orphans, as I told you."
"Durien," said the brigadier to the other gendarme, who had produced a note-book, "write that down—orphans."
"It is put down, brigadier."
"And how do you support yourselves?" was the next question.
"We are mountebanks," answered Nadine, "and we give performances with the assistance of our animals."