queval."

"We are not talking of her now, I tell you."

"But hear me, and be sure you pay me well for my advice. You want an
orphan girl, as quiet as a lamb, as handsome as daylight, and who is
only seventeen, you say?"

"Certainly."

"Well, then, take La Goualeuse when she leaves St. Lazare; she is the
very thing for you, as if we had made her on purpose. For she was about
six years of age when that scamp, Jacques Ferrand (and it's now ten
years ago), gave her to me with a thousand francs, in order to get rid
of her,--that is to say, it was Tournemine, who is now at the galleys at
Rochefort, who brought her to me, saying there was no doubt she was
some child they wanted to get rid of or pass off for dead."

"Jacques Ferrand, do you say?" exclaimed Sarah, in a voice so choked
that the Chouette receded several paces. "The notary, Jacques Ferrand,
gave you this child--and--?" She could not finish, her emotion was too
violent; and with her two clasped hands extended towards the Chouette,
she trembled convulsively, surprise and joy agitating her features.

"I don't know what it is that makes you so much in earnest, my good
lady," replied the old hag; "but it is a very simple story. Ten years
ago Tournemine, an old pal of mine, said to me: 'Have you a mind to take
charge of a little girl that they want to get out of the way? No matter
whether she slips her wind or not. There's a thousand francs for the
job, and do what you like with the 'kinchin.'"

"Ten years ago?" cried Sarah.

"Ten years."

"A little fair girl?"

"A little fair girl."

"With blue eyes?"

"Blue eyes--as blue as blue bells."

"And it was she who was at the farm?"

"And we packed her up and carted her off to St. Lazare. I must say,
though, that I didn't expect to find her--Pegriotte--in the country as I
did, though."

"Oh, _mon Dieu!_ _mon Dieu!_" exclaimed Sarah, falling on her knees, and
elevating her hands and eyes to heaven, "Thy ways are inscrutable, and I
bow down before thy providence! Oh, if such happiness be possible! But,
no, I cannot yet believe it; it would be too fortunate! No!" Then rising
suddenly she said to the Chouette, who was gazing at her with the utmost
astonishment, "Follow me!" And Sarah walked before her with hasty steps.

At the end of the alley she ascended several steps that led by a glass
door to a small room sumptuously furnished. At the moment when the
Chouette was about to enter, Sarah made a sign to her t