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“Tell me,”—and the baroness interrupted Mingote impatiently as she lowered her voice, “have you told him what he’s wanted for?”

“Yes; he would have guessed it at once, anyway. You can’t fool a kid like this, who’s knocked about the town, as if he were a respectable child. Poverty is a great teacher, Baroness.”

“And you tell that to me?” replied the lady. “When I think of the life I’ve led and am leading now, my hair stands on end. Without a doubt the good Lord endowed me with a privileged nature, for I accustom myself quite easily to everything.”

“You can always lead an easy life if you wish,” answered Mingote. “Oh! If I had only been born a woman! What a career I’d have led!”

“Let’s not talk of that.”

“You’re right. What’s the use? Now we’ll plan our new stratagem. I’ll get to work preparing the proofs of the boy’s civil status. And do you wish to take charge of him?”

“Very well.”

“He can run your errands for you. He’s a pretty good hand at writing.”

“Never mind. Let him remain here.”