“Pardon me, my children!” said Dagobert, recovering himself after a long silence.  “I am wrong to get in a passion, for we do not understand one another.  What you say is true; and yet I am right to speak as I do.  Listen to me.  You are an honest man, Agricola; you an honest girl; what I tell you is meant for you alone.  I have brought these children from the depths of Siberia—­do you know why?  That they may be to-morrow morning in the Rue Saint-Francois.  If they are not there, I have failed to execute the last wish of their dying mother.”

“No. 3, Rue Saint Francois?” cried Agricola, interrupting his father.

“Yes; how do you know the number?” said Dagobert.

“Is not the date inscribed on a bronze medal?”

“Yes,” replied Dagobert, more end more surprised; “who told you?”

“One instant, father!” exclaimed Agricola; “let me reflect.  I think I guess it.  Did you not tell me, my good sister, that Mdlle. de Cardoville was not mad?”

“Not mad.  They detain her in this asylum to prevent her communicating with any one.  She believes herself, like the daughters of Marshal Simon, the victim of an odious machination.”

“No doubt of it,” cried the smith.  “I understand all now, Mdlle. de Cardoville has the same interest as the orphans to appear to-morrow at the Rue Saint-Francois.  But she does not perhaps know it.”

“How so?”

“One word more, my good girl.  Did Mdlle. de Cardoville tell you that she had a powerful motive to obtain her freedom by to-morrow?”

“No; for when she gave me this ring for the Count de Montbron, she said to me:  ’By this means both I and Marshal Simon’s daughters will be at liberty either to-morrow or the day after—­’”

“But explain yourself, then,” said Dagobert to his son, with impatience.

“Just now,” replied the smith, “when you came to seek me in prison, I told you, father, that I had a sacred duty to perform, and that I would rejoin you at home.”

“Yes; and I went, on my side, to take some measures, of which I will speak to you presently.”

“I ran instantly to the house in the Rue de Babylone, not knowing that Mdlle. de Cardoville was mad, or passed for mad.  A servant, who opened the door to me, informed me that the young lady had been seized with a sudden attack of madness.  You may conceive, father, what a blow that was to me!  I asked where she was:  they answered, that they did not know.  I asked if I could speak to any of the family; as my jacket did not inspire any great confidence, they replied that none of her family were at present there.  I was in despair, but an idea occurred to me.  I said to myself:  ’If she is mad, her family physician must know where they have taken her; if she is in a state to hear me, he will take me to her; if not, I will speak to her doctor, as I would to her relations.  A doctor is often a friend.’  I asked the servant, therefore, to give me the doctor’s address.  I obtained it without difficulty—­Dr. Baleinier, No. 12, Rue Taranne.  I ran thither, but he had gone out; they told me that I should find him about five o’clock at his asylum, which is next door to the convent.  That is how we have met.”