ease you from my command not
to speak of your former life, and desire you to tell this gentleman if
you know who were the parents of these two little ones.

'Yes, reverend Mother,' said Agathe, readily; 'the old name of Claire'
(touching the larger baby) 'was Salome Potier: her mother was the
washerwoman; and Nannonciade, I don't know what her name was, but her
father worked for Maitre Brassier who made the kettles.

Philip felt relieved to be free from all doubt about these very
uninviting little ones, but Berenger, though sighing heavily, asked
quickly, 'Permit me, Madame, a few questions.--Little maid, did you ever
hear of Isaac Gardon?

'Maitre Isaac! Oh yes, sir. We used to hear him preach at the church,
and sometimes he catechized us,' she said, and her lip quivered.

'He was a heretic, and I abjure him,' added the other girl, perking up
her head.

'Was he in the town? What became of him?' exclaimed Berenger.

'He would not be in the town,' said the elder girl. 'My poor father had
sent him word to go away.

'_Eh quoi_?

'Our father was Bailli la Grasse,' interposed the younger girl,
consequentially. 'Our names were Marthe and Lucie la Grasse, but Agathe
and Eulalie are much prettier.

'But Maitre Gardon?' still asked Berenger.

'He ought to be take and burnt,' said the new Eulalie; 'he brought it
all on us.

'How was it? Was my wife with him--Madame de Ribaumont? Speak, my child.

'That was the name,' said one girl.

'But Maitre Gardon had no great lady with him,' said the other, 'only
his son's widow and her baby, and they lodged with Noemi Laurent, who
made the _patisserie_.

'Ah!' cried Berenger, lighting up with the new ray of hope. 'Tell me, my
dear, that they fled with him, and where.

'I do not know of their going,' said Agathe, confused and overborne by
his eagerness.

'Curb yourself, sir,' said the Prioress, 'they will recollect themselves
and tell you what they can.

'It was the little cakes with lemoned sugar,' suggested the younger
girl. 'Maitre Tressan always said there would be a judgment on us for
our daintiness. Ah! he was very cross about them, and after all it was
the Maitre of Lucon who ate fifteen of them all at once; but then he is
not a heretic.

Happily for Berenger, Agathe unraveled this speech.

'Mademoiselle Gardon made the sugar-lemoned cakes, and the Mayor of
Lucon, one day when he supped with us, was so delighted with them that
he carried one away to show his