Barberin, I might have died of cold and hunger when I was a baby. It was true he had taken me from Mother Barberin to sell me to a stranger, but then he had no liking for me and perhaps he was forced to do it for the money. After all it was through him that I was finding my parents. So now I ought not to harbor any bitterness against him.
I soon reached the Hotel du Cantal which was only a hotel in name, being nothing better than a miserable lodging house.
"I want to see a man named Barberin; he comes from Chavanon," I said to a dirty old woman who sat at a desk. She was very deaf and asked me to repeat what I had said.
"Do you know a man named Barberin?" I shouted.
Then she threw up her hands to heaven so abruptly that the cat sleeping on her knees sprang down in terror.
"Alas! Alas!" she cried, then she added: "Are you the boy he was looking for?"
"Oh, you know?" I cried excitedly. "Well, where's Barberin?"
"Dead," she replied, laconically.
I leaned on my harp.
"Dead!" I cried loud enough for her to hear. I was dazed. How should I find my parents now?
"You're the boy they're looking for; I'm sure you are," said the old woman again.
