“I am going to have your story investigated at Ussel,” he said. “If it is true, as I hope it is, you will be free to-morrow.”
“And our cow?” asked Mattia anxiously.
“Will be given back to you.”
“I didn’t mean that,” replied Mattia; “but who’ll feed her, who’ll milk her?”
“Don’t worry, youngster,” said the prosecutor.
Mattia smiled contentedly.
“Ah, then if they milk our cow,” he asked, “may we have some milk for supper?”
“You certainly shall!”
As soon as we were alone I told Mattia the great news that had almost made me forget that we were locked up.
“Mother Barberin is alive, and Barberin has gone to Paris!” I said.