he two hands of poor Fleur-de-Marie from the pale
and grief-worn countenance they concealed, and down which tears were
fast streaming.

The Goualeuse, sinking under a sense of shame, and terrified at finding
herself thus at the mercy of her persecutors, joined her hands, and,
turning towards the milk-woman her supplicating and timid looks, she
said, in a gentle voice:

"Indeed, indeed, madam, I have been at the farm of Bouqueval these last
two months. How could I, then, have been witness to the dreadful
misfortune you speak of? And--"

The faint tones of Fleur-de-Marie's voice were drowned in the loud
uproarious cries of the surrounding multitude.

"Let us take her before the mayor! She can speak; and she shall, too, to
some purpose. March, march, my fine madam! On with you!"

So saying, the menacing crowd pressed upon the poor girl, who,
mechanically crossing her hands on her bosom, looked eagerly around, as
though in search of help.

"Oh," cried the milk-woman, "you need not stare about in that wild way.
Mlle. Clara is not here now to take your part. You don't slip through
my fingers, I promise you!"

"Alas! madam," uttered Fleur-de-Marie, trembling violently, "I seek not
to escape from you. Be assured, I am both ready and willing to answer
all the questions put to me, if I can be of any service to you by so
doing. But what harm have I done to these people, who surround and
threaten me in this manner?"

"What have you done?" repeated a number of voices, "why, you have dared
to stick yourself up with our betters, when we, who were worth thousands
more than such as you, were made to keep our distance,--that's what you
have done!"

"And what right had you to cause this poor woman to be turned away with
her fatherless children?" cried another.

"Indeed, it was no fault of mine. It was Mlle. Clara, who wished--"

"That is not true!" interrupted the speaker. "You never even opened your
mouth in her favour. No, not you? You were too well pleased to see her
bread taken from her."

"No, no! no more she did," chimed in a burst of voices, male and female.

"She is a regular bad one!"

"A poor widow-woman, with three helpless children!"

"If I did not plead for her with Mlle. Clara, it was because I had not
power to utter a word."

"You could find strength enough to talk to a set of thieves and
murderers!"

And, as is frequently the case in public commotions, the country people,
more ignorant than vicious,