he's at the house of a poor fellow down in that quarter who
had just been at the police office to make his declaration to the
Commissaire. Here's his address, which I took down: '_Pierron, rue des
Cailloux, Levailois-Perret_.' With good horses you may reach your boy
in less than an hour. Certainly, you won't find him in an aristocratic
quarter; his surroundings won't be of the highest. The man who found him
is only a small dealer in vegetables."

But that was of no importance to M. Godefroy, who, having expressed his
gratitude to the Prefect, leaped down the stairs four at a time, and
sprang into his carriage. At that moment he realized how devotedly he
loved his child. As he drove away he no longer thought of little Raoul's
princely education and magnificent inheritance. He was decided never
again to hand over the child entirely to the hands of servants, and he
also made up his mind to devote less time to monetary matters and the
glory of France and attend more to his own. The thought also occurred
to him that France wouldn't be likely to suffer from the neglect. He had
hitherto been ashamed to recognize the existence of an old-maid sister
of his father, but he decided to send for her to his house. She would
certainly shock his lackeys by her primitive manners and ideas. But what
of that? She would take care of his boy, which to him was of much more
importance than the good opinion of his servants. The financier, who
was always in a hurry, never felt so eager to arrive punctually at a
committee meeting as he was to reach the lost little one. For the first
time in his life he was longing through pure affection to take the child
in his arms.

The carriage rolled rapidly along in the clear, crisp night air down
boulevard Malesherbes; and, having crossed the ramparts and passed the
large houses, plunged into the quiet solitude of suburban streets. When
the carriage stopped M. Godefroy saw a wretched hovel, on which was the
number he was seeking; it was the house where Pierron lived. The door of
the house opened immediately, and a big, rough-looking fellow with red
mustache appeared. One of his sleeves was empty. Seeing the gentleman
in the carriage, Pierron said cheerily: "So you are the little one's
father. Don't be afraid. The little darling is quite safe," and,
stepping aside in order to allow M. Godefroy to pass, he placed his
finger on his lips with: "Hush! The little one is asleep!"

Yes, it was a real hovel. By th