that had been made to adopt her. These last had ended in her being
adopted by a former friend of Salvat, who had sent her to school again,
pending the time when she might be apprenticed to some trade, while, on
the other hand, Madame Theodore had been placed as a nurse in a
convalescent home. In such wise both had been saved.

When Pierre drew near to little Celine in order to kiss her, Madame
Theodore told her to thank Monsieur l'Abbe--for so she still respectfully
called him--for all that he had previously done for her. "It was you who
brought us happiness, Monsieur l'Abbe," said she. "And that's a thing one
can never forget. I'm always telling Celine to remember you in her
prayers."

"And so, my child, you are now going to school again," said Pierre.

"Oh yes, Monsieur l'Abbe, and I'm well pleased at it. Besides, we no
longer lack anything." Then, however, sudden emotion came over the girl,
and she stammered with a sob: "Ah! if poor papa could only see us!"

Madame Theodore, meanwhile, had begun to take leave of Madame Toussaint.
"Well, good by, we must go," said she. "What has happened to you is very
sad, and we wanted to tell you how much it grieved us. The worry is that
when misfortune falls on one, courage isn't enough to set things right..
.. Celine, come and kiss your uncle.... My poor brother, I hope
you'll get back the use of your legs as soon as possible."

They kissed the paralysed man on the cheeks, and then went off. Toussaint
had looked at them with his keen and still intelligent eyes, as if he
longed to participate in the life and activity into which they were
returning. And a jealous thought came to his wife, who usually was so
placid and good-natured. "Ah! my poor old man!" said she, after propping
him up with a pillow, "those two are luckier than we are. Everything
succeeds with them since that madman, Salvat, had his head cut off.
They're provided for. They've plenty of bread on the shelf."

Then, turning towards Pierre and Thomas, she continued: "We others are
done for, you know, we're down in the mud, with no hope of getting out of
it. But what would you have? My poor husband hasn't been guillotined,
he's done nothing but work his whole life long; and now, you see, that's
the end of him, he's like some old animal, no longer good for anything."

Having made her visitors sit down she next answered their compassionate
questions. The doctor had called twice already, and had promised to
restore