CHAPTER I.
“There oft are heard the notes of infant woe,
The short thick sob, loud scream, and shriller squall.
How can you, mothers, vex your infants so?”—POPE.
“D’abord, madame, c’est impossible!—Madame ne descendra pas ici?[12]” said François, the footman of Mad. de Fleury, with a half expostulatory, half indignant look, as he let down the step of her carriage at the entrance of a dirty passage, that led to one of the most miserable-looking houses in Paris.
“But what can be the cause of the cries which I hear in this house?” said Mad. de Fleury.
“‘Tis only some child, who is crying,” replied François: and he would have put up the step, but his lady was not satisfied.
“‘Tis nothing in the world,” continued he, with a look of appeal to the coachman, “it can be nothing, but some children, who are locked up there above. The mother, the workwoman my lady wants, is not at home, that’s certain.”
“I must know the cause of these cries; I must see these children,” said Mad. de Fleury, getting out of her carriage.
François held his arm for his lady as she got out.
“Bon!” cried he, with an air of vexation. “Si madame la veut absolument, à la bonne heure!—Mais madame sera abimée. Madame verra que j’ai raison. Madame ne montera jamais ce vilain escalier. D’ailleurs c’est an cinquième. Mais, madame, c’est impossible."[13]