On this evening, however, two belated citizens came from somewhere, their hurrying footsteps noiseless in the deep snow, their approach announced only by the lantern carried by one of them--an article without which no respectable citizen at the beginning of the century would have ventured on the street after nightfall.

One of the pedestrians was tall and broad-shouldered, with a handsome countenance, which bore the impress of an inflexible determination; a dimple indented his smoothly shaven chin.
His companion, and his senior by several years, was a slender, undersized man.
When the two men came abreast of the doorway illumined by the swinging lamp, it was evident that they had arrived at their destination.

They halted and prepared to enter the house.
At this moment the child crouching in the snow began to sob.
"See here!" exclaimed the taller of the two gentlemen.

"Here is a little girl." "Why, so there is!" in turn exclaimed the elder, stooping and letting the light of his lantern fall on the child's face.

"What are you doing here, little one ?" he asked in a kindly tone.
"I want my mama! I want my mama!" wailed the child, with a fresh burst of sobs.
"Who is your mama ?" queried the younger man.
"My mama is the countess." "And where does she live ?" "In the palace." "Naturally! In which avenue is the palace ?" "I--don't--know." "A true child of Paris!" in an undertone exclaimed the elder gentleman.
"She knows that her mother is a countess, and that she lives in a palace; but she has never been told the name of the street in which is her home." "How come you to be here, little countess ?" inquired the younger man.
"Diana can tell you," was the reply.
"And who may Diana be ?" "Why, who else but mama's Diana ?" "Allow me to question her," here interposed the elder man.