"little papa" (Papoute). Then Laroussel tried to reach a clew in
other ways, without success. He asked her about where she
lived,--what the place was like; and she told him about fig-trees
in a court, and galleries, and banquettes, and spoke of a
faubou',--without being able to name any street. He asked her
what her father used to do, and was assured that he did
everything--that there was nothing he could not do. Divine
absurdity of childish faith!--infinite artlessness of childish
love! ... Probably the little girl's parents had been residents
of New Orleans--dwellers of the old colonial quarter,--the
faubourg, the faubou'.

-- "Well, gentlemen," said Captain Harris, as Laroussel abandoned
his cross-examination in despair,--"all we can do now is to make
inquiries. I suppose we'd better leave the child here. She is
very weak yet, and in no condition to be taken to the city, right
in the middle of the hot season; and nobody could care for her
any better than she's being cared for here. Then, again, seems
to me that as Feliu saved her life,--and that at the risk of his
own,--he's got the prior claim, anyhow; and his wife is just
crazy about the child--wants to adopt her. If we can find her
relatives so much the better; but I say, gentlemen, let them come
right here to Feliu, themselves, and thank him as he ought to be
thanked, by God! That's just what I think about it."

Carmen understood the little speech;--all the Spanish charm of
her youth had faded out years before; but in the one swift look
of gratitude she turned upon the captain, it seemed to blossom
again;--for that quick moment, she was beautiful.