“That is my pleasure; I have no family, the unfortunate are my children. As you know, I came to Paris with the hope of learning something of a certain little boy whom I loved in his infancy, and who besides is entitled to my protection. But faith, as I can’t find him, this little girl shall take his place. From this moment I adopt her; I take charge of her mother, and I thank Providence for selecting me to be their protector.”
The next day honest Gerval put his plan into execution: he bought a large and commodious berlin, placed in it everything that the young woman and her daughter would need on the journey; and then, having left his address with the landlady, so that she might write to him in case she should learn anything concerning the strangers, the protector of Adeline and Ermance left Paris with them and his old servant, for the country residence where he proposed to end his days in peace.
XXXI
JACQUES AND SANS-SOUCI
While honest Gerval’s carriage bore Adeline and her daughter toward the north of France, what were Jacques’s thoughts concerning the sudden disappearance of the two persons whom he loved best? In order to ascertain, let us return to the farm.
On his return from the fields, surprised to find that Adeline and her daughter, who were always the first to reward his labors with a caress, did not come to meet him, Jacques looked about for his sister. Disturbed to find that she was not in the living room, he asked Louise if she were not well.
“I hope nothing’s the matter with her,” said the farmer’s wife, “but I haven’t seen her all day; you know sometimes she likes to stay by herself in her room, and I don’t dare to disturb her. But she ought to be with us before this.”
“I will go and look for her,” said Jacques; and he hurried up to Adeline’s room.
The peasants also began to fear that Adeline was ill. Sans-Souci said nothing, but he was more anxious than the rest, for he remembered what he had told Adeline that morning, and he suspected that she had done something on impulse. They all impatiently awaited Jacques’s return. He came down at last, but grief and melancholy were expressed on his features, his eyes were moist and his brow was dark.
“What has happened?” cried the peasants.
“She has gone, she has left us,” said Jacques, pacing the floor, raising his eyes to the ceiling, clenching his fists, and pausing now and then to stamp the floor violently.