“And my father continued, thinking aloud:
“‘Some love-child whose poor mother has come and rung at my door this Epiphany night, thinking of the Christ-child.’
“He stopped again, and four times shouted through the night at the pitch of his voice to the four corners of the heavens, ‛We have taken it up!’ Then, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder, he murmured, ‛If you had shot at the dog, François?...’
“My uncle gave no answer, but he made a great sign of the cross in the darkness, for he was very devout, in spite of his swaggering airs.
“The dog had been untied, and followed us.
“I can assure you our return to the house was a pretty sight indeed. First we had a lot of trouble to get the carriage up the rampart stair: but we managed at last, and wheeled it into the hall.
“How amused, and pleased, and frightened mamma was! As for my four little cousins (the youngest was six), they were like four hens around a nest. At last the baby, which was still sleeping, was taken out of its carriage. It was a girl, about six weeks old. And in its clothes we found ten thousand francs in gold, yes, ten thousand francs, which papa invested for her dowry. So she was not the child of poor parents ... but perhaps the child of a nobleman and some small citizen’s daughter ... or else ... we formed a thousand conjectures but we never learned anything ... no, not a thing ... not a thing.... Even the dog was not recognized by any one. He was strange to these parts. In any case, he or she who came three times and rang at our door must have known my parents well, to have chosen them in this way.
“So that is how Mademoiselle Perle made her entrance at six weeks’ age to the Chantal family.
“We did not call her Mademoiselle Perle until later, however. She was baptized Marie Simonne Claire; Claire was to serve as her surname.
“I can tell you it was a funny return to the dining-room with the small mite, now awake, who gazed about her at the people and the lights with her big wondering blue eyes.