After a quarter of an hour’s questioning, Adeline, having to wait for the father to inquire how his business was prospering, pursued her saintly calling as a spy by asking whether they knew of any families needing help.

“Ah, dear lady, you who could save the damned from hell!” said the Italian wife, “there is a girl quite near here to be saved from perdition.”

“A girl well known to you?” asked the Baroness.

“She is the granddaughter of a master my husband formerly worked for, who came to France in 1798, after the Revolution, by name Judici.  Old Judici, in Napoleon’s time, was one of the principal stove-fitters in Paris; he died in 1819, leaving his son a fine fortune.  But the younger Judici wasted all his money on bad women; till, at last, he married one who was sharper than the rest, and she had this poor little girl, who is just turned fifteen.”

“And what is wrong with her?” asked Adeline, struck by the resemblance between this Judici and her husband.

“Well, madame, this child, named Atala, ran away from her father, and came to live close by here with an old German of eighty at least, named Vyder, who does odd jobs for people who cannot read and write.  Now, if this old sinner, who bought the child of her mother, they say for fifteen hundred francs, would but marry her, as he certainly has not long to live, and as he is said to have some few thousand of francs a year—­well, the poor thing, who is a sweet little angel, would be out of mischief, and above want, which must be the ruin of her.”

“Thank you very much for the information.  I may do some good, but I must act with caution.—­Who is the old man?”

“Oh! madame, he is a good old fellow; he makes the child very happy, and he has some sense too, for he left the part of town where the Judicis live, as I believe, to snatch the child from her mother’s clutches.  The mother was jealous of her, and I dare say she thought she could make money out of her beauty and make a mademoiselle of the girl.

“Atala remembered us, and advised her gentleman to settle near us; and as the good man sees how decent we are, he allows her to come here.  But get them married, madame, and you will do an action worthy of you.  Once married, the child will be independent and free from her mother, who keeps an eye on her, and who, if she could make money by her, would like to see her on the stage, or successful in the wicked life she meant her to lead.”

“Why doesn’t the old man marry her?”

“There was no necessity for it, you see,” said the Italian.  “And though old Vyder is not a bad old fellow, I fancy he is sharp enough to wish to remain the master, while if he once got married—­why, the poor man is afraid of the stone that hangs round every old man’s neck.”

“Could you send for the girl to come here?” said Madame Hulot.  “I should see her quietly, and find out what could be done—­”