There was none. I spent agonizing weeks wandering Mantua in search of you, finally arriving at the idea of asking someone who you were. But still you have told me of my real mother when I thought it was Suzanne Valade. "If you have a child there, it certainly is not," answered Jonathan, a little surprised; "for I left your brat in the charge of Blueskin, who is still among the crowd in the street, unless, as is not unlikely, he's gone to see your other friend disciplined at the pump. How she learned of her heritage I do not know, but you need not imagine that it is greed that drives her. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. I want him immediately, so you can send Frith with my phaeton if you like.
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