Alfred de Rosann by G.W.M. Reynolds — page 53: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

40 Alfred de Rosann. poufs—and the Gendarmes once more put their prisoners in motion. A very short distance was to be completed ere they would arrive at Pontchartrain, where a light repast of beans, bread, and water, would be dealt out to those unhappy beings whom the laws of their country had condemned to terrible penances and privations. CHAPTER VI. UNCLE THOMAS. ArriveEp at Pontchartrain, the prisoners were conducted to a mi- serable inn or cabaret, where their meagre fare was speedily pro- vided for them in the kitchen, while the Gendarmes sate down in an ante-chamber to a substantial breakfast of cold meat and wine, which latter is generally known in France by the name of piquette. De Rosann rejected the odious pulse, but was fain to devour the bread to repress the cravings of his appetite: Champignon en quired if he could not be unchained from his comrade for a moment, and be accommodated with a saucepan, &c., to cook his beans @ la maitre d’ hotel; but on receivirig an answer in the negative, he remained sulkily silent: and Belle-Rose occupied himself with the savoury spectacle of a couple of fowls that were roasting before the fire, under the care of a little girl of about thirteen or fourteen years of age, whom the Gendarmes called Felicité. Presently a bright idea struck Belle-Rose. He beckoned the girl towards him, and seizing an opportunity when the backs of the Gendarmes were turned against the prisoners, he began the following conversation in a low whisper. His companions saw that a joke was im train; and not only on account of Belle-Rose’s notorious facetious disposition, but also in strict observance of the principles of mutual abettance and aid which were never swerved from by them, they forbore to notice that any thing was going on. ‘¢ My little girl,” said Belle-Rose, with a serious countenance, ‘*‘ where are your father and mother ?”’ ‘¢ Father ’s dead—but mother ’s alive,” was the reply. ‘¢ Your father’s dead? Alas! alas!” murmured the convict, wiping his eyes: ‘ and the good old lady—how is she ?” ‘¢ Is it mother that you mean ?”’ ‘¢ Precisely.” ‘¢ She’s not very old.” ‘¢ No—no; the young lady, I meant—I knew she was not old ; besides, your age proves that she 1s still in the bloom of youth.” ‘ Mother is not a lady, neither; she keeps this inn. That’s a lady, who lives at the white chateau yonder.’ ‘< Well—well—your mother, my dear—how is she?” ‘‘ She’s got nothing ailing her, except her corns, that I know of,” replied the girl ingenuously; ‘and they didn’t prevent her from going to the neighbouring market this morning:” ‘¢ And how far off is that market?” ‘* About a league across the fields.” COnicbooolks (GO)