“Where are you going?” asked the father.
“I don’t know.”
“Got any friends or relations in Paris?”
“No.”
“Where do you live?”
“We hadn’t any home. We only got to the city yesterday.”
“What are you going to do, then?”
“Play my harp and get a little money.”
“In Paris? You had better return to your parents in the country. Where do they live?”
“I haven’t any parents. My master bought me from my foster parents. You have been good to me and I thank you with all my heart and, if you like, I’ll come back here on Sunday and play my harp while you dance.”