“Yes, M. Dagobert.”

“I was sure of it.  Good dog!—­Oh, yes! beasts are better than men—­except you, my dear girl, who are better than either man or beast.  But my poor children!  I shall see them, I shall have them once more!”

So saying, Dagobert, in spite of his age, began to run very fast towards Spoil-sport.  “Agricola,” cried Mother Bunch, “prevent thy father from knocking at that door.  He would ruin all.”

In two strides, the smith had reached his father, just as the latter was raising his hand to the knocker.  “Stop, father!” cried the smith, as he seized Dagobert by the arm.

“What the devil is it now?”

“Mother Bunch says that to knock would ruin all.”

“How so?”

“She will explain it to you.”  Although not so nimble as Agricola, Mother Bunch soon came up, and said to the soldier:  “M.  Dagobert, do not let us remain before this gate.  They might open it, and see us; and that would excite suspicion.  Let us rather go away—­”

“Suspicion!” cried the veteran, much surprised, but without moving from the gate; “what suspicion?”

“I conjure you, do not remain there!” said Mother Bunch, with so much earnestness, that Agricola joined her, and said to his father:  “Since sister rashes it, father, she has some reason for it.  The Boulevard de l’Hopital is a few steps from here; nobody passes that way; we can talk there without being interrupted.”

“Devil take me if I understand a word of all this!” cried Dagobert, without moving from his post.  “The children are here, and I will fetch them away with me.  It is an affair of ten minutes.”

“Do not think that, M. Dagobert,” said Mother Bunch.  “It is much more difficult than you imagine.  But come! come!—­I can hear them talk in the court-yard.”

In fact, the sound of voices was now distinctly audible.  “Come father!” said Agricola, forcing away the soldier, almost in spite of himself.  Spoil-sport, who appeared much astonished at these hesitations, barked two or three times without quitting his post, as if to protest against this humiliating retreat; but, being called by Dagobert, he hastened to rejoin the main body.

It was now about five o’clock in the evening.  A high wind swept thick masses of grayish, rainy cloud rapidly across the sky.  The Boulevard de l’Hopital, which bordered on this portion of the convent-garden, was, as we before said, almost deserted.  Dagobert, Agricola, and the serving girl could hold a private conference in this solitary place.

The soldier did not disguise the extreme impatience that these delays occasioned in him.  Hardly had they turned the corner of the street, when he said to Mother Bunch:  “Come, my child, explain yourself.  I am upon hot coals.”

“The house in which the daughters of Marshal Simon are confined is a convent, M. Dagobert.”

“A convent!” cried the soldier:  “I might have suspected it.”  Then he added:  “Well, what then?  I will fetch them from a convent as soon as from any other place.  Once is not always.”