ceeded to perform a singular task. First he tossed a number of
letters and papers into the flames, then several dainty articles of
girls' clothing. He watched them until they had burned to ashes; then he
flung himself into an arm-chair; his head sank forward on his breast, in
which position he sat motionless for several hours.

CHAPTER II

When the younger of the two men stepped into the street he carried in
his arms a little girl wrapped in a faded red shawl, to whom he was
speaking encouragingly, in tones loud enough for any passer-by to hear:

"I know the little countess will be able to find her mama's palace; for
there is a fountain in front of it in which there is a stone man with a
three-pronged fork, and a stone lady with a fish-tail! Oh, yes; we shall
be sure to find it; and very soon we shall be with mama."

Here the child in his arms began to sob bitterly.

"For heaven's sake, do not weep; do not let your voice be heard,"
whispered the young man in her ear.

At this moment a man wearing a coarse blouse, with his cap drawn over
his eyes and a short pipe between his lips, came staggering toward them.
The young man, in order to make room for him, pressed close to the wall,
whereupon the new-comer, who seemed intoxicated, began in drunken tones:

"Hello, citizen! What do you mean? Do you want me to walk in the
gutter?--because you have got on fine boots, and I have only wooden
sabots! I am a citizen like yourself, and as good as you. We are alike,
are n't we?"

The young man now knew with whom he had to deal--a police spy whose duty
it was to watch him. He therefore replied quietly:

"No, we are not alike, citizen; for I have in my arms an unfortunate
child who has strayed from its mother. Every Frenchman respects a child
and misfortune. Is not that so, citizen?"

"Yes, that is so, citizen. Let 's have a little conversation about it";
and the pretended drunkard seized hold of the young man's mantle to
detain him.

"It is very cold," returned the young man. "Instead of talking here,
suppose you help me get this child to its home. Go to the nearest corner
and fetch a coach. I will wait here for you."

The blouse-wearer hesitated a moment, then walked toward the
street-corner, managing, however, to keep an eye on the young man and
his charge. At the corner he whistled in a peculiar manner, whereupon
the rumbling of wheels was heard. In a few moments the leather-covered
vehicle drew up beside the