"Oh! he has gone away, madame!"

"Who, pray, my dear love?"

"Monsieur Auguste."

"Auguste gone away! nonsense! he'll come back, of course, won't he?"

"Oh, no, madame! I shall never see him again. He's gone a long way."

"I say, Dutchman, is it true that Auguste has left Paris?"

"Ja! ja! he's gone round the world with Pertrand."

"Round the world! Great G.o.d! And I came to ask him to invite me to breakfast! Come, my little Denise, don't cry like that!--Poor child! she makes me feel sad.--So you loved Auguste, did you, my dear child?"

"Oh, yes, madame!"

"There! I knew it! she loved him! I suspected as much.--And he swore that he loved you too, of course; for these villains of men, they swear to that as if they were just saying good-morning."

"No, madame, Auguste didn't love me, I'm very sure of that!"

"Then it's very kind of you to weep for him."

"Oh! I can't help it."

"I know well enough that love is stronger than we are. I know all about that! I have been through it. There are men that one can't help persisting in loving.--And you came to Paris to see him?"

"Yes, madame, and to give him this money. When you came to see me three weeks ago, you told us that Monsieur Auguste was ruined. I didn't know anything about it before."

"Yes, yes, I remember; and I played ghost; and if it hadn't been for your dog nipping the calf of my leg, I'd have had the whole village in the air."

"Last summer Monsieur Auguste gave me a thousand crowns for little Coco; but he was rich then; to-day, as he isn't rich any more, it seemed to me that I ought to give back that money. We had used it for building a cottage and laying out a garden; but I made my aunt understand that we mustn't tell Monsieur Auguste that we had used the money at all. My aunt's kindhearted too. Besides, it was no more than our duty. As I succeeded in getting the last of the money yesterday, I started to bring it to him right away. I came alone so as not to be delayed, and after all I got here too late! He has gone, and he isn't coming back again!"

Denise began to cry again, while Schtrack returned with the money and handed it to her, saying:

"There ain't a single one missing; count 'em, mamzelle."

"Alas! what shall I do with it now? This money was for him," said Denise.

"You had better take it home again, my child; a person can never have too much of it," Virginie replied, while Schtrack, still holding the bag, repeated:

"Count 'em, mamzelle, if you blease."

"Don't you see that she don't want to count it, you pig-headed old fool?" said Virginie. "We all know that the Dutchman is honest."

"Never mind, count just the same, mamzelle, if you blease."

Virginie decided to count the money, because Schtrack would not otherwise have left them in peace. Meanwhile Denise said to the concierge:

"Did Monsieur Auguste look very sad when he went away, monsieur?"

"Sad? no, mamzelle, he was fery glad to go, judging from what he said."

"I'll bet he's gone to pick up a legacy," said Virginie, "and that's why he went off so sudden. Didn't he tell you so, Dutchman?"

"No, he haf not said anything of a legacy, but he sold[F] all his furniture."

[F] Schtrack is supposed to p.r.o.nounce the word _vendu_--sold--like _fendu_--split or broken;--hence the misunderstanding.

"What's that? He smashed all his furniture? Had he gone mad, then?"

"I tell you he sold everything, to get money."

"Oh! sold his furniture! Why don't you say what you mean--with your Zurich French!"

"You see how badly off he must have been," said Denise, "to sell everything he had!"

"That don't prove anything, my dear girl; in the first place, as he was leaving Paris, he didn't need any furniture; and then there are people who prefer to live in furnished lodgings. For my part, I've sold my furniture four or five times, and yet I stay in Paris; you see that every day.--But after all, in which direction has the fellow gone?

Didn't he tell you, monsieur le concierge?"

"Yes; he's gone round the world."

"The deuce! that's a definite address! Think of writing: 'To Monsieur So-and-So, going round the world!'--And he's taken Bertrand with him, has he?"

"Yes, I'm fery sorry for it, because Pertrand was just beginning to work fery gut."

"Bertrand, work? at what, pray?"

"At making preeches, bantaloons; it was me who taught him."

"My dear man, I think you must be dreaming now. Bertrand, the old soldier, Auguste's faithful servant, make breeches?"

"Like a horse."

"You're crazy!"

"No, no, I ain't; Pertrand, he did work. He pa.s.sed every night working, and my wife told me he did it to help his master, who was throwing away all his money."

Virginie was speechless, but Denise exclaimed:

"I understand only too well. Dear old Bertrand! I knew he was a fine fellow! He worked to help Auguste, who didn't know anything about it, probably."

"Oh, no! he was going to sew up my tongue if I said a word."

"Well, madame, if Monsieur Auguste hadn't been without means, would Bertrand have worked at tailoring--worked all night?"

"Faith, my dear girl, I don't understand it at all. The last time I saw Auguste he treated me to punch, and yet he must have moved up to the fifth floor even then. To be sure, he had such a kind heart, he was so generous!--Well, well! there she is crying again! My dear Denise, you'll make your eyes as red as a rabbit's; and that won't bring Auguste back.

Poor child! how she loves him! Those ne'er-do-wells must have some kind of magic power, to inspire such pa.s.sions. Don't get excited, Denise--he'll come back, he hasn't gone away forever. You'll see him again, I'm sure of it; and when he knows how much you love him, I propose that he shall love you and cherish you; I'll tell him what grief and torture he has caused you; I'll tell him how good, how gentle and sweet you are. Come, don't cry any more. Kiss me, Denise; Auguste will love you, for you well deserve it."