And without giving M. Wilkie an inkling of the truth, he succeeded
in obtaining from him as accurate a knowledge of his past career
as the young fellow himself possessed.
M. Wilkie did not know much concerning his origin or his early
life; and his history, so far as he was acquainted with it, could
be told in a few words. His earliest recollection was of the
ocean. He was sure, perfectly sure, that he had made a very long
sea voyage when only a little child, and he looked upon America as
his birthplace. The French language was certainly not the first
he had learned, for he still remembered a limited number of
English phrases. The English word "father" was among those that
lingered in his memory; and now, after a lapse of twenty years, he
pronounced it without the least foreign accent. But while he
remembered the word perfectly well, no recollection remained to
him of the person he had called by that name. His first
sensations were those of hunger, weariness, and cold. He
recollected, and very distinctly too, how on one long winter
night, a woman had dragged him after her through the streets of
Paris, in an icy rain. He could still see himself as he wandered
on, crying with weariness, and begging for something to eat. And
then the poor woman who held him by the hand lifted him in her
arms and carried him on--on, until her own strength failed, and
she was obliged to set him on the ground again.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90