re function of
superintendent of the prisoners. Nothing can be more excellent, more
practical, than the notions of order, work, and duty which they
endeavour to instil into the prisoners, in the hope that these
instructions may survive their term of imprisonment. In turns indulgent
and firm, patient and severe, but always just and impartial, these
females, incessantly in contact with the prisoners, end, after the
lengthened experience of years, by acquiring such a knowledge of the
physiognomy of these unfortunates that they can judge of them almost
invariably from the first glance, and can at once classify them
according to their degree of immorality.

Madame Armand, the inspectress who remained with Madame d'Harville,
possessed in a remarkable degree this almost supernatural prescience as
to the character of the prisoners; her words and decisions had very
great weight in the establishment.

Madame Armand said to Clemence:

"Since madame wishes me to point out to her such of our prisoners as
have by good conduct, or sincere repentance, deserved that an interest
should be taken in them, I believe I can mention to her a poor girl whom
I believe to be more unfortunate than culpable; for I am not deceived
when I say that it is not too late to save this young girl, an unhappy
creature of not more than sixteen or seventeen years of age."

"And for what is she imprisoned?"

"She is guilty of being found in the Champs Elysees in the evening. As
it is prohibited to such females, under very severe penalties, to
frequent, by day or night, certain public places, and as the Champs
Elysees are in the number of the forbidden promenades, she was
apprehended."

"And does she appear to you interesting?"

"I never saw features more regular, more ingenuous. Picture to yourself,
my lady, the face of a Virgin; and what adds still more to the
expression of modesty in her countenance is that, on coming here, she
was dressed like a peasant girl of the environs of Paris."

"She is, then, a country girl?"

"No, my lady; the inspectors knew her again. She had lived for some
weeks in a horrible abode in the Cite, from which she has been absent
for two or three months; but, as she had not demanded the erasure of her
name from the police registries, she comes under the power of that body,
which has sent her hither."

"But, perhaps, she had quitted Paris to try and reinstate herself?"

"I think so, madame; and it is therefore I have take