"M.

L'Abbe!..." said Marguerite gravely.
"Yes, mon enfant." The old man looked up from his breviary, and saw Marguerite's great earnest eyes fixed with obvious calm and trust upon him.

She had finished her toilet as well as she could, had shaken up and tidied the paillasse, and was now sitting on the edge of it, her hands clasped between her knees.

There was something which still puzzled her, and impatient and impulsive as she was, she had watched the abbe as he calmly went on reading the Latin prayers for the last five minutes, and now she could contain her questionings no longer.
"You said just now that they set you to watch over me..." "So they did, my child, so they did..." he replied with a sigh, as he quietly closed his book and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Ah! they are very cunning...