ad with so much difficulty collected together,
it arose from a mother's love for that unseen treasure her heart so
loves and prizes. This poor little patchwork cap, and the pieces of old
mattresses she has so awkwardly sewed together, no doubt appear to you
fit objects of mirth; but, for my own part, I feel far more inclined to
cry than to laugh at seeing the poor creature's instinctive attempts to
provide for her babe. So, if you laugh at Mont Saint-Jean, let me come
in for my share of your ridicule."

Not the faintest attempt at a smile appeared on any countenance, and La
Louve continued, with fixed gaze, to contemplate the little cap she
still held in her hand.

"I know very well," said Fleur-de-Marie, drying her eyes with the back
of her white and delicate hand,--"I know very well that you are not
really ill-natured or cruel, and that you merely torment Mont Saint-Jean
from thoughtlessness. But consider that she and her infant are one. If
she held it in her arms, not only would you carefully avoid doing it the
least injury, but I am quite sure, if it were cold, you would even take
from your own garments to cover it. Would not you, La Louve? Oh, I know
you would, every one of you!"

"To be sure we would,--every one pities a tender baby."

"That is quite natural."

"And if it cried with hunger, you would take the bread from your own
mouth to feed it with. Would not you, La Louve?"

"That I would, and willingly, too! I am not more hard-hearted than other
people!"

"Nor more are we!"

"A poor, helpless, little creature!"

"Who could have the heart to think of harming it?"

"They must be downright monsters!"

"Perfect savages!"

"Worse than wild beasts!"

"I told you so," resumed Fleur-de-Marie. "I said you were not
intentionally unkind; and you have proved that you are good and pitying
towards Mont Saint-Jean. The fault consisted in your not reflecting
that, although her child is yet unborn, it is still liable to harm from
any mischief that befalls its mother. That is all the wrong you have
done."

"All the wrong we have done!" exclaimed La Louve, much excited. "But I
say it is not all. You were right, La Goualeuse. We acted like a set of
cowards; and you alone deserve to be called courageous, because you did
not fear to tell us so, or shrink from us after you had told us. It is
nonsense to seek to deny the fact that you are not a creature like
us,--it is no use trying to persuade ourselves you are li