"How could I! The Cossacks were at my heels, and there was fire and blood everywhere."
"But later on?"
"The child was sick for a long time, entirely out of his head, and when he began to recover we feared that his brain was hopelessly affected. It was not until eighteen months had elapsed that he was able to tell me he came from Leigoutte, among the Vosges mountains."
"Ah!" The Marquis drew his breath with pain. "Go on! go on!" he muttered in a hoarse voice.
"He said his father's name was Simon, his mother's name Françoise, and a little sister was called Francinette, but he gave me no family name. I did my best and found that the father had been killed in an engagement among the mountains, the mother was burned in a fire set by the Cossacks, the sister had disappeared; my little Fanfar was all alone. I kept him, and did what I could for him. I taught him my profession. This is the whole story. On one side good, brave people, on the other cowards and assassins."
The Marquis was livid. There was now no doubt. It was Simon's son who had been thus thrown in his path. He asked one more question.
"But could you not learn the father's name?"
"No, the village was burned, almost all the inhabitants had perished, the Cossacks had done their work well. One of the peasants did tell me that he always thought this Master Simon—he taught a school—was a great lord in disguise, but there are always just such foolish stories, and you know in those days great lords were not often killed in defending France."
Fanfar entered somewhat abruptly.
"This is the lad, sir," said Gudel, drawing him to his side. "He is good, he is honest, he is strong!"