“What an awful name!” said the hearer.

“You will think it more awful, my child, when I tell you, that this is the very panther which strangled my horse at Leipsic, four months ago.”

“Good Heaven! you are right, M. Dagobert,” said the girl, “it is awful.”

“Wait a little,” said Dagobert, whose countenance was growing more and more gloomy, “that is not all.  It was by means of this very Morok, the owner of the panther, that I and my poor children were imprisoned in Leipsic.”

“And this wicked man is in Paris, and wishes you evil?” said Mother Bunch.  “Oh! you are right, M. Dagobert; you must take care of yourself; it is a bad omen.”

“For him, if I catch him,” said Dagobert, in a hollow tone.  “We have old accounts to settle.”

“M.  Dagobert,” cried Mother Bunch, listening; “some one is running up the stairs.  It is Agricola’s footsteps.  I am sure he has good news.”

“That will just do,” said the soldier, hastily, without answering.  “Agricola is a smith.  He will be able to find me the iron hook.”

A few moments after, Agricola entered the room; but, alas! the sempstress perceived at the first glance, in the dejected countenance of the workman, the ruin of her cherished hopes.

“Well!” said Dagobert to his son, in a tone which clearly announced the little faith he attached to the steps taken by Agricola; “well, what news?”

“Father, it is enough to drive one mad—­to make one dash one’s brains out against the wall!” cried the smith in a rage.

Dagobert turned towards Mother Bunch, and said:  “You see, my poor child—­I was sure of it.”

“Well, father,” cried Agricola; “have you seen the Court de Montbron?”

“The Count de Montbron set out for Lorraine three days ago.  That is my good news,” continued the soldier, with bitter irony; “let us have yours—­I long to know all.  I need to know, if, on appealing to the laws, which, as you told me, protect and defend honest people, it ever happens that the rogues get the best of it.  I want to know this, and then I want an iron hook—­so I count upon you for both.”

“What do you mean, father?”

“First, tell me what you have done.  We have time.  It is not much more than half-past eight.  On leaving me, where did you go first?”

“To the commissary, who had already received your depositions.”

“What did he say to you?”

“After having very kindly listened to all I had to state, he answered, that these young girls were placed in a respectable house, a convent—­so that there did not appear any urgent necessity for their immediate removal—­and besides, he could not take upon himself to violate the sanctity of a religious dwelling upon your simple testimony; to-morrow, he will make his report to the proper authorities, and steps will be taken accordingly.”

“Yes, yes—­plenty of put offs,” said the soldier.