François and Germaine came up to the young man, who pressed the philosopher's hand and presented his respects to Mme. Darbois: and seeing them look with some curiosity at the old woman, he said, "Here, Madame, are some good people deserving of your kindness. Mme. Borderie is this little chap's grandmother. Her widowed son died five months ago of tuberculosis, and as the child was coughing she gave everything she had to take him to a specialist in Nantes. The rough sea to-day made the poor little fellow ill, bringing on a horrible coughing attack. The poor woman was too weak to hold him during his convulsions, and he rolled away from her, and she was so frightened when he did not move, that she was going to throw herself overboard. I rushed with the other passengers to stop her, we calmed her finally, and after some little time I was able to resuscitate the child, who had gone off in a fit."
The poor woman wept as he talked, and showed a banknote he had slipped into her hand when he said good-bye.
"You must put that away. You will need it," said the young Count, smiling.
"Where do you live?" enquired Germaine.
"At Pont-Herlin."
"That is some distance away?"
The old woman shook her head and feebly shrugged her thin shoulders.
"I must go there."
"Well, Mme. Borderie, we will take you there."
Without further parley, Albert picked the old woman up lightly and set her down in the brake. The baby was deposited on her knees where he promptly fell asleep. The Count's little trunk found place beside the farmer on the front seat. A basket of osier, which the young man had handled very carefully, was also placed in the brake, and then they set off for Pont-Herlin.