It was, however, the hardness of resentment, and not of cruelty.

It was not his wife's or his daughter's flight that he resented, nor yet the loss of all he had, nor the injury done him by Sebastian Dolores.

No, his resentment was against one he had never seen, but was now soon to see.

As his mind came back from the far places where it had been, and his eyes returned to the concrete world, he saw what the woman recalled to him.

It was--yes, it was Virginie Poucette--the kind and beautiful Virginie--for her goodness had made him remember her as beautiful, though indeed she was but comely, like this woman who stayed him as he walked by the river.
"You are M'sieu' Jean Jacques Barbille ?" she said questioningly.
"How did you know ?" he asked....