a keen ear, wonderful agility, and an intelligent manner of speaking. At
the first glance the boy gave his father Madame Graslin recognized one
of those unbounded affections in which instinct blends with thought, and
a most active happiness strengthens both the will of the instinct and
the reasoning of thought.

"This must be the child I have heard of," said Veronique, motioning to
the boy.

"Yes, madame."

"Have you made no attempt to find his mother?" asked Veronique, making a
sign to Farrabesche to follow her a little distance.

"Madame may not be aware that I am not allowed to go beyond the district
in which I reside."

"Have you never received any news of her?"

"At the expiration of my term," he answered, "I received from the
Commissioner a thousand francs, sent to him quarterly for me in little
sums which police regulations did not allow me to receive till the day I
left the galleys. I think that Catherine alone would have thought of me,
as it was not Monsieur Bonnet who sent this money; therefore I have kept
it safely for Benjamin."

"And Catherine's parents?"

"They have never inquired for her since she left. Besides they did
enough in taking charge of the little one."

"Well, Farrabesche," said Veronique, returning toward the house. "I will
make it my business to know if Catherine still lives; and if so, what is
her present mode of life."

"Oh! madame, whatever that may be," said the man gently, "it would
be happiness for me if I could have her for my wife. It is for her to
object, not me. Our marriage would legitimatize this poor boy, who as
yet knows nothing of his position."

The look the father threw upon the lad explained the life of these two
beings, abandoned, or voluntarily isolated; they were all in all to each
other, like two compatriots adrift upon a desert.

"Then you love Catherine?" said Veronique.

"Even if I did not love her, madame," he replied, "she is to me, in my
situation, the only woman there is in the world."

Madame Graslin turned hurriedly and walked away under the chestnut
trees, as if attacked by some sharp pain; the keeper, thinking she was
moved by a sudden caprice, did not venture to follow her.

XIV. THE TORRENT OF THE GABOU

Veronique remained for some minutes under the chestnut trees, apparently
looking at the landscape. Thence she could see that portion of the
forest which clothes the side of the valley down which flows the torrent
of the Gabou, now