Close as the air was, she felt the chill of the morning and shivered.
At the same moment she perceived poor Maitre Hebert covering himself as
best he could with a dirty brown garment, and bending over her with
much solicitude, but making signs to make as little noise as possible,
while he whispered, 'How goes it with Mademoiselle?'

'Ah,' said Estelle, recollecting herself, 'we are shipwrecked. We
shall have to confess our faith! Where are the rest?'

'There is M. l'Abbe,' said Hebert, pointing to a white pair of the bare
feet. 'Poor Laurent and Victorine have been carried elsewhere.'

'And mamma? And my brother?'

'Ah! Mademoiselle, give the good God thanks that he has spared them
our trial.'

'Mamma! Ah, she was in the cabin when the water came in? But my
brother! I had hold of his hand, he came out with me. I saw M. Arture
swim away with him. Yes, Maitre Hebert, indeed I did.'

Hebert had not the least hope that they could be saved, but he would
not grieve the child by saying so, and his present object was to get
her dressed before any one was awake to watch, and perhaps appropriate
her upper garments. He was a fatherly old man, and she let him help
her with her fastenings, and comb out her hair with the tiny comb in
her etui. Indeed, friseurs were the rule in France, and she was not
unused to male attendants at the toilette, so that she was not shocked
at being left to his care.