"She has a daughter?"
"Yes, which is not at all pleasant for us. Of course, the child can't live here; she stays across the street. Zelda goes every night to the shop for her. It is nonsense, of course, for she will go the same way as her mother in the end."
"Will you show me the papers?" asked Sanselme, "and I will do all I can for this woman."
"Help me to get rid of her! That is all I ask."
"Rely on me."
Sanselme presently had the papers in his hands. The sick woman's name was Jane Zeld. She came from a little village in Switzerland, near Zurich. There was also a paper dated many years since, signed by her father, authorizing her to reside in the Commune of Selzheim, in Alsace. Sanselme turned sick and dizzy; he caught at the wall for support.
"What on earth is the matter?" asked the old woman.
He stammered a few incoherent words. Then in a measure recovering himself, he said:
"I give you my word that I will take her away in the morning."
"But if she should die in the night! However, I am too kind-hearted for my own good. She may stay here to night. But who will take care of her?"