"Was it you, Françoise, who spoke so sharply to the child?" she asked in a tone that expressed both surprise and reproof.
"Well, Madame," replied the servant, "you see this is one of those little beggars, a mountebank's daughter, who pay a visit to the town just for what they can steal. She came here begging and I told her that you had no time to attend to her."
The color flew to Nadine's face, and her eyes flashed with indignation at these words which were no less unjust than they were cruel.
She lifted her pretty head with a touch of pride, and her voice rang out clearly as she hastened to say:
"But I didn't come here begging, Madame. I've never had to do anything of the kind yet, thank God. I simply came to ask permission of the Mayor to make my living in an honest way. That's what I'm here for, I assure you," and she made a respectful courtesy to the lady.
"But why didn't your father come instead, my child?" asked the lady, regarding her with a look of kindly interest. "You are very young to be attending to such matters."
"Alas, I have no longer a father," responded Nadine, her head drooping again, and the big tears welling up in her blue eyes.
"Well, then, your mother—Why does not she come?" was the next question.
Poor Nadine's voice almost failed her, and her answer was scarcely audible:
"I have no mother either."