there to watch over the
safety of the poor girl condemned at an early age to seek employment
from home? Alas, no one! Directly she is capable of adding her mite to
the family earnings, she leaves her dwelling at an early hour, and
repairs to the manufactory where she may happen to be engaged.
Meanwhile, both father and mother are too busily employed to have
leisure to attend to their daughter's comings or goings. 'Our time is
our stock in trade,' cry they, 'and bread is too dear to enable us to
lay aside our work while we look after our children.' And then there is
an outcry raised as to the quantity of depraved females constantly to be
met with, and of the impropriety of conduct among those of the lower
orders, wholly forgetting that the parents have neither the means of
keeping them at home, nor of watching over their morals when away from
them."

Thus mentally moralised Morel. Then, speaking aloud, he added:

"After all, our greatest privation is when forced to quit our parents,
wives, or children. It is to the poor that family affection is most
comforting and beneficial. Yet, directly our children grow up, and are
capable of becoming our dearest companions, we are forced to part with
them."

At this moment some one knocked loudly at the door.

CHAPTER XIII.

JUDGMENT AND EXECUTION.

The lapidary, much astonished, rose and opened the door. Two men entered
the garret. One, tall, lanky, with an ill-favoured and pimply face,
shaded by thick grizzly whiskers, held in his hand a thick cane, loaded
at the head; he wore a battered hat, and a long-tailed and bespattered
green coat, buttoned up close to his throat. Above the threadbare velvet
collar was displayed his long neck, red and bald like that of a vulture.
This man's name was Malicorne. The other was a shorter man, with a look
as low-lived, and red, fat, puffed features, dressed with a great effort
at ridiculous splendour. Shiny buttons were in the folds of the front of
his shirt, whose cleanliness was most suspicious, and a long chain of
mosaic gold serpentined down a faded plaid waistcoat, which was seen
beneath his seedy Chesterfield, of a yellowish gray colour. This
gentleman's name was Bourdin.

"How poverty-stricken this hole smells," said Malicorne, pausing on the
threshold.

"Why, it does not scent of lavender-water. Confound it, but we have a
lowish customer to deal with," responded Bourdin, with a gesture of
disgust and contempt, and then