“My father went straight to him and petted him.  The dog licked his hands.  We saw that he was tied to the wheel of a little carriage, a sort of toy carriage entirely wrapped up in three or four woolen blankets.  We carefully took off these coverings, and as Baptiste approached his lantern to the front of this little vehicle, which looked like a rolling kennel, we saw in it a little baby sleeping peacefully.

“We were so astonished that we couldn’t speak.

“My father was the first to collect his wits, and as he had a warm heart and a broad mind, he stretched his hand over the roof of the carriage and said:  ‘Poor little waif, you shall be one of us!’ And he ordered my brother Jacques to roll the foundling ahead of us.  Thinking out loud, my father continued: 

“’Some child of love whose poor mother rang at my door on this night of Epiphany in memory of the Child of God.’

“He once more stopped and called at the top of his lungs through the night to the four corners of the heavens:  ‘We have found it!’ Then, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder, he murmured:  ’What if you had shot the dog, Francois?’

“My uncle did not answer, but in the darkness he crossed himself, for, notwithstanding his blustering manner, he was very religious.

“The dog, which had been untied, was following us.

“Ah!  But you should have seen us when we got to the house!  At first we had a lot of trouble in getting the carriage up through the winding stairway; but we succeeded and even rolled it into the vestibule.

“How funny mamma was!  How happy and astonished!  And my four little cousins (the youngest was only six), they looked like four chickens around a nest.  At last we took the child from the carriage.  It was still sleeping.  It was a girl about six weeks old.  In its clothes we found ten thousand francs in gold, yes, my boy, ten thousand francs!—­which papa saved for her dowry.  Therefore, it was not a child of poor people, but, perhaps, the child of some nobleman and a little bourgeoise of the town—­or again—­we made a thousand suppositions, but we never found out anything-never the slightest clue.  The dog himself was recognized by no one.  He was a stranger in the country.  At any rate, the person who rang three times at our door must have known my parents well, to have chosen them thus.

“That is how, at the age of six weeks, Mademoiselle Pearl entered the Chantal household.

“It was not until later that she was called Mademoiselle Pearl.  She was at first baptized ‘Marie Simonne Claire,’ Claire being intended, for her family name.

“I can assure you that our return to the diningroom was amusing, with this baby now awake and looking round her at these people and these lights with her vague blue questioning eyes.

“We sat down to dinner again and the cake was cut.  I was king, and for queen I took Mademoiselle Pearl, just as you did to-day.  On that day she did not appreciate the honor that was being shown her.