"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. Nothing else was put in their place, and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. It always comes out sooner or later. I daresay that is one of the names of the nuns in your convent. ” “You could never be that,” he answered, “but you are at least more serious than usual. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. ” He would say every time she wore it.
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