And then seeing the passers-by continue their way, she would stand speechless, tearing her breast with her nails. One day, however, a peasant stopped to listen to her. The worthy man set his wits at work.
"Let us see. Did you say three children?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Two boys?"
"And a girl."
"And you are looking for them?"
"Yes."
"I was told that a nobleman had carried off three little children and keeps them with him."
"Where is that man? Where are they?" she cried.
"Yon must go to the Tourgue," answered the peasant.