saved Robert Feuardent's bastard sister! Ye gods, there 's something grotesque about that!"
Where should he look for her? That was the thought that puzzled him as he stood there in the shadow of the pier meditating his plan of action, while the mighty river, quiet and resist less in its silent strength, flowed swiftly by the city lying in its cool embrace. He was quite unconscious of the passage of time, and the clock on the cathedral in Jackson Square rang out the hours without attracting his attention. It must have been somewhere about midnight when he was roused from the revery into which he had fallen. He was startled by something rustling past him as he stood leaning against the wooden pier. In an instant his senses were keenly alert. It was a woman's dress that had touched him; he was sure of that—yes—there was the woman now, sitting a few paces from him on the edge of the bank. She seemed very tired, for she had chosen a place where some logs of wood made a support for her, and she leaned back, rolling up her cloak to form a cushion for her head. Philip felt a movement of compassion for this homeless creature who had no other resting-place than a pile of lumber on the levee. He felt in his pocket: he had some money with him; it might help this wanderer, and it would be pleasant to think that he had
