She answered slowly:
"Two steps from there. The Rue Travehefoin."
"I don't think I know the street."
"Very possibly," stammered the girl. "I will show you the way."
She had returned the laces to the box, and then with a determined step led the way. A few feet from the Quai, where this scene had taken place, there was at this time a network of narrow, dark and wretched streets. It was in fact regarded as the worst part of the town. Sanselme did not care for this. He was happy that he had done some good at last. The girl turned into a lane that was very dark, in spite of the street lamp burning at the further end. The girl finally stopped before a tall house, from which came shouts of laughter and singing. The door was not close shut and the girl pushed it open. A stout woman stood just within.
"Upon my word!" she cried. "Did Zelda need two hours to—"
"My mother is dying," said the child, as she held the door wide open.
Sanselme appeared, carrying the inanimate form.
"Drunk again!" cried the stout woman.
"This woman is ill," answered Sanselme, roughly, who now understood the kind of a place he was in. "Get out of my way!" he added.