"Irène has a great spirit," whispered the other mother. 'Come here, my girl," and she put her arms about her and caressed her as she was wont to do her own child, now so still andcold. " No, we cannot let you go."
Irène was ready for any task. She was one of those creatures whom want had taught appreciation; and was, therefore, willing at any time to undertake anything that her friends wished to be done. Her father had fallen at Waterloo, and her mother had died of a brokenheart. Irène had been the only offspring of an alliance that had been so sweet to the young mother that its termination was too much for her, and before long she too had gone into the eternal land, leaving this single child, who found her means of subsistence in whatever haphazard way destiny saw fit. Now that she was grown, she was willing to do anything for those who had been kind to her.
The parents came to no conclusion as to who should be asked to carry the unhappy news to Paris. It would have been useless to send a letter, for a soldier has not a permanent address, much less a rebel soldier.
