ally to see them, and
who would report any brutalities of which they were the victims. Jack's
mother never wrote to him nowadays, and no one at the Institute knew
even where she was. Ah! had he but been able to ascertain, how quickly
would the child have gone to her, and told her all his sorrows. Jack
thought of all this as they returned from the cemetery. Labassandre and
Dr. Hirsch were in front of him, talking to each other.

"She is in Paris," said Labassandre, "for I saw her yesterday."

Jack listened eagerly.

"And was he with her?"

She--he. These designations were certainly somewhat vague, and yet Jack
knew of whom they were speaking. Could his mother be in Paris and yet
not have hastened to him? All the way back to the Institute he was
meditating his escape.

Moronval, surrounded by his professors and friends, walked at the head
of the procession, and turned occasionally to look back upon them with a
rallying gesture. This gesture was repeated by Said to the little boys,
whose legs were very weary with the distance they had walked. They would
increase their speed for a few rods, and then gradually drop off again.
Jack contrived to linger more and more among the last.

"Come!" cried Moronval.

"Come, come!" repeated Said.

At the entrance of the Champs Elysees Said turned for the last time,
gesticulating violently to hasten the little group. Suddenly the
Egyptian's arms fell at his side in amazement, for Jack was missing!

At first the child did not run, he was sagacious enough to avoid any
look of haste. He affected, on the contrary, a lounging air. But as he
drew nearer the Boulevard Haussmann, a mad desire to run took possession
of him, and his little feet, in spite of himself, went faster and
faster. Would the house be closed? And if Labassandre were mistaken, and
his mother not in Paris, what would become of him? The alternative of a
return to the academy never occurred to him. Indeed, if he had thought
of it, the remembrance of the heavy blows and heartfelt sobs that he had
heard all one afternoon would have filled him with terror.

"She is there," cried the child, in a transport of joy, as he saw all
the windows of the house open, and the door also as it was always when
his mother was about going out. He hastened on, lest the carriage should
take her away before he could arrive. But as he entered the vestibule,
he was struck by something extraordinary in its appearance. It was full
of people al