My readers must now learn how Françoise and Caillette found themselves at Leigoutte. They will remember that just as Fanfar recognized in the poor, sick woman the mother whose loss he had so deeply deplored, and in Francine the worshipped little sister whose agonized cries he had heard in the subterranean passages among the Vosges, all clue was lost, for Bobichel vanished, and with him Caillette.
And Gudel's daughter, who loved Fanfar with a love that was without hope, said to him:
"She is your mother. Will you allow me to take care of her?"
Fanfar looked at Caillette with loving, grateful eyes, and then hastened away with Bobichel and Gudel.
Then Caillette was left alone with the sick woman, who began to cry and sob. Her mind had been so long torpid that now this shock seemed to have swept away the last vestige of her intelligence. But Caillette was good and patient, and finally the sick woman slept. Caillette watched her and waited through the twilight, and at last, holding the hand of her charge in hers, she too fell asleep.
When the girl opened her eyes it was daybreak, and the bed was empty. Yes, Fanfar's mother, whom she had promised to guard, had vanished. She ran into the next room. No one was there, and the door was open.
Caillette ran to the concierge. "Where is she?" she cried.
"Do you mean the old woman? Oh! she went away before light."
"Impossible! She cannot walk."
"I was astonished myself, but my wife said to me, who is that coming down stairs? I looked, and I saw a ghost—not a pretty one either, begging your pardon. It was the paralytic, the old woman who had never walked a step all the while that the Marquise took care of her.