She was a girl of about eighteen years of age, ugly, badly clothed, and dirty looking.
Norbert looked earnestly at her, but could not say who she was, though he was certain that he had seen her face somewhere.
"Who are you ?" asked he.
She burst into a flood of tears, but made no other reply.
"Come," resumed he, in more soothing accents; "you shall not be hurt.
Tell me who you are." "Caroline Schimmel." "Caroline ?" repeated he.
"Yes.

I have been in your service as scullery maid for the last three months." "How is it that you did not go to the wedding with the rest of them ?" "It was not my fault.

I was asked, and I did so long to go, but I was too shabby; I had no finery to put on.

I am very poor now, for I have only fifteen francs a month, and none of the other maids would lend me anything to wear." "How did you come into the garden ?" asked Norbert.
"I was very miserable, and was sitting in the garden crying, when I suddenly saw a light down there.

I thought it was theirs, and crept down the back stairs." "And what did you see ?" "I saw it all." "All what ?" "When I got down here, you and the other were digging.