"I do not understand. Do you not know your brother?"
"My brother!"
Irène passed her hand over her troubled brow.
"My brother. Ah! what is it you say? I never had but one brother, dear little Jacques, who was always so good and kind to me!"
"Jacques! but that is the name of—Monsieur Fanfar!"
"I tell you," answered Francine, "that I never met any one of that name. Stop a moment, I remember a company of mountebanks on the Square; they were under the management of a man called Iron Jaws, and with him was this Fanfar, if I don't mistake."
"Precisely, and this Fanfar is your brother, I heard him say so, himself, when I went to help you. He said to me, 'she is my sister—'"
"Where is he? I must see him. He saved my life. Suppose that he is Jacques! But no, poor Jacques is dead!"
Irène could not help the poor girl; although she fully believed in the truth of what Fanfar had said, she could offer no proof.