Père Jerome smiled:

"God does not need me to look after his sick; but he allows me to do it,
just as you let your little boy in frocks carry in chips." He might have
added that he loved to do it, quite as much.

It was plain the woman had somewhat to ask, and was trying to get
courage to ask it.

"You have a little boy?" asked the priest.

"No, I have only my daughter;" she indicated the girl at her side. Then
she began to say something else, stopped, and with much nervousness
asked:

"Père Jerome, what was the name of that man?"

"His name?" said the priest. "You wish to know his name?"

"Yes, Monsieur" (or _Miché_, as she spoke it); "it was such a beautiful
story." The speaker's companion looked another way.

"His name," said Father Jerome,--"some say one name and some another.
Some think it was Jean Lafitte, the famous; you have heard of him? And
do you go to my church, Madame----?"

"No, Miché; not in the past; but from this time, yes. My name"--she
choked a little, and yet it evidently gave her pleasure to offer this
mark of confidence--"is Madame Delphine--Delphine Carraze."