"The woman who informed me that our child was still living dictated to me
this revelation--then I was stabbed by a poniard."

"And who was she? how did she know?"

"It was to her our child was delivered--quite an infant--after having
falsely reported her death."

"But this woman--her name? can she be believed? where did you become
acquainted with her?"

"I tell you, Rudolph, that all this is fate--providential. Some months
since, you rescued a poor girl from poverty, to send her to the country--is
it not so?"

"Yes, to Bouqueval."

"Jealousy and hatred drove me wild. I caused this young girl to be carried
off by the woman of whom I have spoken."

"And she took the unhappy child to Saint Lazare?"

"Where she yet is."

"She is there no longer. Ah! you do not know, madame, the frightful evil
you have caused by tearing this poor child from the retreat where I had
placed her; but--"

"The girl no longer at Saint Lazare?" cried the lady in alarm; "and you