"A brat, about whom also nobody knows anything. When he was four he was living with a dozen American soldiers who had made for him, by way of cradle, a fur bag. The day of the great American attack, one of the twelve carried him on his back; and it happened that of all those who advanced, it was this soldier who went furthest, and that they found his body next day near Montfaucon hill. Beside him, in the fur bag, the child was asleep, slightly wounded. On the battle-field, the colonel decorated him with the Croix de guerre, and gave him the name and rank of Captain Montfaucon of the American army. Later it fell to me to nurse him at the hospital to which he was brought in. Three months after that the colonel wished to carry him off to America. Montfaucon refused. He did not wish to leave me. I adopted him."
Dorothy told the child's story in a low voice full of tenderness. The eyes of the Countess shone with tears and she murmured:
"You acted admirably—admirably, mademoiselle. Only that gave you four orphans to provide for. With what resources?"
Dorothy laughed and said:
"We were rich."
"Rich?"
"Yes, thanks to Montfaucon. Before he went his colonel left two thousand francs for him. We bought a caravan and an old horse. Dorothy's Circus was formed."
"A difficult profession to which you have to serve an apprenticeship."
"We served our apprenticeship under an old English soldier, formerly a clown, who taught us all the tricks of the trade and all the wheezes. And then I had it all in my blood. The tight-rope, dancing, I was broken in to them years ago. Then we set out across France. It's rather a hard life, but it keeps one in the best of health, one is never dull, and taken all round Dorothy's Circus is a success."
"But does it comply with the official regulations?" asked the inspector whose respect for red tape enabled him to control the sympathy he was feeling for her. "For after all this document is only valuable from the point of view of references. What I should like to see is your own certificate of identity."