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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.
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