al
boards, a flock-bed for Francois, a little old child's bed, much too
short, for Amandine, a pile of broken chairs and dismembered benches,
mementoes of the turbulent visitors to the cabaret of the Isle du
Ravageur,--such was the interior of this dog-hole.

Amandine, seated at the edge of the bed, was trying how to dress her
head _en marmotte_, with the stolen silk handkerchief, the gift of her
brother Nicholas. Francois was on his knees, holding up a piece of
broken glass to his sister, who, with her head half turned, was employed
in spreading out the large rosette which she had made in tying the two
ends of the kerchief together. Wonder-struck at this head-dress,
Francois for an instant neglected to present the bit of glass in such a
way that her face could be reflected in it.

"Lift the looking-glass higher," said Amandine; "I can't see myself at
all now! There, that's it,--that'll do! Hold it so a minute! Now I've
done it! Well, look! How have I done my head?"

"Oh, capitally,--excellently! What a handsome rosette! You'll make me
just such a one for my cravat, won't you?"

"Yes, directly. But let me walk up and down a little. You can go before
me--backwards--holding the glass up, just in that way. There--so! I can
then see myself as I walk."

Francois then went through this difficult manoeuvre to the great
satisfaction of Amandine, who strutted up and down in all her pride and
dignity, under the large bow of her head attire.

Very simple and unsophisticated under any other circumstances, this
coquetry became guilt when displayed in reference to the produce of a
robbery of which Francois and Amandine were not ignorant. Another proof
of the frightful facility with which children, however well disposed,
become corrupted almost imperceptibly when they are continually immersed
in a criminal atmosphere.

Then, the sole mentor of these unfortunate children, their brother
Martial, was by no means irreproachable himself, as we have already
said. Incapable, it is true, of a theft or a murder, still he led a
vagabond and ill-regulated life. Undoubtedly his mind revolted at the
crimes of his family. He loved these two children very fondly, and
protected them from ill-treatment, endeavouring to withdraw them from
the pernicious influences of the family; but not taking his stand on the
foundations of rigorous and sound morality, his advice was but an
ineffective safeguard to these children. They refused to commit certai