ation about your son. Coming away from this Bras Rouge's abode,
after a struggle in which I was engaged, I met with this unfortunate
girl--"

"Alas! but your kind endeavour in my behalf has thrown in your way
another unfortunate being, M. Rodolph."

"You have no intelligence from Rochefort?"

"None," said Madame Georges, shuddering, and in a low voice.

"So much the better! We can no longer doubt but that the monster met his
death in the attempt to escape from the--"

Rodolph hesitated to pronounce the horrible word.

"From the Bagne? Oh, say it!--the Bagne!" exclaimed the wretched woman
with horror, and almost frantic as she spoke. "The father of my child!
Ah! if the unhappy boy still lives--if, like me, he has not changed his
name--oh, shame! shame! And yet it may be nothing: his father has,
perhaps, carried out his horrid threat! What has he done with my boy?
Why did he tear him from me?"

"That mystery I cannot fathom," said Rodolph, with a pensive air. "What
could induce the wretch to carry off your son fifteen years ago, and
when he was trying to escape into a foreign land? A child of that age
could only embarrass his flight."

"Alas, M. Rodolph! when my husband" (the poor woman shuddered as she
pronounced the word) "was arrested on the frontier and thrown into
prison, where I was allowed to visit him, he said to me these horrible
words: 'I took away the brat because you were fond of him, and it will
be a means of compelling you to send me money, which may or may not be
of service to him,--that's my affair. Whether he lives or dies it is no
matter to you; but if he lives, he will be in good hands: you shall
drink as deep of the shame of the son as you have of the disgrace of the
father!' Alas! a month afterwards my husband was condemned to the
galleys for life; and since then all my entreaties, my prayers, and
letters have been in vain. I have never been able to learn the fate of
my boy. Ah, M. Rodolph! where is my child at this moment? These
frightful words are always ringing in my ears: 'You shall drink as deep
of the shame of the son as you have of the disgrace of the father!'"

"This atrocity is most inexplicable; why should he demoralise the
unhappy child? Why carry him off?"

"I have told you, M. Rodolph,--to compel me to send him money; although
he had nearly ruined me, yet I had still some small resources, but they
at length were exhausted also. In spite of his wickedness, I could not
believe b