aritable souls, and if you could get any of them to interest
them, selves for these poor orphans--"

"Where is their father?"

"He was in India; but, my husband tells me, he will soon be in France.
That, however, is uncertain. Besides, it would make my heart bleed to see
those poor children share our misery--which will soon be extreme--for we
only live by my son's labor."

"Have these girls no relation here?" asked the voice.

"I believe not, father."

"It was their mother who entrusted them to your husband, to bring them to
France?"

"Yes, father; he was obliged to set out yesterday for Chartres, on some
very pressing business, as he told me."

It will be remembered that Dagobert had not thought fit to inform his
wife of the hopes which the daughters of Marshall Simon founded on the
possession of the medal, and that he had particularly charged them not to
mention these hopes, even to Frances.

"So," resumed the voice, after a pause of some moments' duration, "your
husband is not in Paris."

"No, father; but he will doubtless return this evening or to-morrow
morning."

"Listen to me," said the voice, after another pause. "Every minute lost
for those two young girls is a new step on the road to perdition. At any
moment the hand of God may smite them, for He alone knows the hour of our
death; and were they to die in the state in which they now are, they
would most probably be lost to all eternity. This very day, therefore,
you must open their eyes to the divine light, and place them in a
religious house. It is your duty--it should be your desire!"

"Oh, yes, father; but, unfortunately, I am too poor, as I have already
told you."

"I know it--you do not want for zeal or faith--but even were you capable
of directing these young girls, the impious examples of your husband and
son would daily destroy your work. Others must do for these orphans, in
the name of Christian charity, that which you cannot do, though you are
answerable for them before heaven."

"Oh, father! if, thanks to you, this good work could be accomplished, how
grateful I should be!"

"It is not impossible. I know the superior of a convent, where these
young girls would be instructed as they ought. The charge for their board
would be diminished in consideration of their poverty; but, however
small, it must be paid and there would be also an outfit to furnish. All
that would be too dear for you."

"Alas! yes, father."

"But, by taking a li