You
will ask me what he had found? Ah! good heavens! A mere trifle. He had
found your humble servant, then about six months old."
With these last words, the prisoner made a low bow to his audience.
"Naturally, Father Tringlot carried me to his wife. She was a
kind-hearted woman. She took me, examined me, fed me, and said: 'He's a
strong, healthy child; and we'll keep him since his mother has been so
wicked as to abandon him by the roadside. I will teach him; and in five
or six years he will be a credit to us.' They then asked each other what
name they should give me, and as it happened to be the first day of May,
they decided to call me after the month, and so it happens that May has
been my name from that day to this."
The prisoner paused again and looked from one to another of his
listeners, as if seeking some sign of approval. None being forthcoming,
he proceeded with his story.
"Father Tringlot was an uneducated man, entirely ignorant of the law. He
did not inform the authorities that he had found a child, and, for this
reason, although I was living, I did not legally exist, for, to have
a legal existence it is necessary that one's name, parentage, and
birthplace should figure upon a municipal register.
"When I grew older, I rather congratulated myself on Father Tringlot's
neglect. 'May, my boy,' said I, 'you are not put down on any government
register, consequently there's no fear of your ever being drawn as a
soldier.' I had a horror of military service, and a positive dread of
bullets and cannon balls.
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