"It was by neither more nor less than a miracle. The satchel was given back to me not very long after I found myself in Europe again."
"Not by that same young man!" exclaimed Donald, remembering Madame René's tears.
"Yes, Mr. Donald, by that same young man who took it on the vessel—the photographer."
"Oh!" said Donald.
"I may as well tell you," said Madame René, flushing, and yet looking ready to cry again, "that I had his address, and some months after the shipwreck I sent him a line, so that he might find me if he happened to pass my way. Well, you may believe I was glad to get the purse and some of the other things, Mr. Donald, but the picture and the key were a worriment to me. The picture did not seem to belong to me any longer. Sometimes I thought I would try to send them to the ship's company, to be forwarded to the right persons, and so rid my mind of them; but I had that foolish, wicked fear that I'd be traced out and punished. Why should I, their bonne, be saved and they lost? some might say. Often I was tempted to destroy these things out of my sight; but each time something whispered to me to wait, for some day one who had a right to claim them would be helped to find me. I little thought that one of the very babies I threw down over the waves would be that person—"
"That's so," said Donald, cheerily.
Hearing a doleful sound from the alley far below them, he opened the window and leaned out. A beggar in rags stood there, singing his sad story in rhyme.
Verse after verse came out in mournful measure, but changed to a livelier strain when Don threw down a piece of money, which hit the ragged shoulder.
"Well," said Donald, by way of relief, and again turning to Madame René, "that's a sorry-looking chap. You have all kinds of people here in Paris.—But, by the way, you spoke of tearing strips from your gown on the night of the shipwreck. Do you happen to have that same gown still?"
"No, Master Donald—not the gown. I made it into a skirt and wore it, year after year, for I was obliged to be very saving; and then it went for linings and what not. Yonder cape there on the chair is faced with it, and that's ready to be thrown to the beggars."