any years, evidently made him suffer terribly; but he forced
a smile, he affected to be very brave. And she, who knew from the
trembling of his voice the extent of his sacrifice, had tears in her
eyes.

"No, no, master; don't go if it makes you suffer so much. Martine can go
again."

But the servant, who was present, approved highly of monsieur's
intention.

"And why should not monsieur go? There's no shame in asking what is owed
to one, is there? Every one should have his own; for my part, I think it
quite right that monsieur should show at last that he is a man."

Then, as before, in their hours of happiness, old King David, as Pascal
jestingly called himself, left the house, leaning on Abishag's arm.
Neither of them was yet in rags; he still wore his tightly buttoned
overcoat; she had on her pretty linen gown with red spots, but doubtless
the consciousness of their poverty lowered them in their own estimation,
making them feel that they were now only two poor people who occupied
a very insignificant place in the world, for they walked along by the
houses, shunning observation. The sunny streets were almost deserted. A
few curious glances embarrassed them. They did not hasten their steps,
however; only their hearts were oppressed at the thought of the visits
they were about to make.

Pascal resolved to begin with an old magistrate whom he had treated
for an affection of the liver. He entered the house, leaving Clotilde
sitting on the bench in the Cours Sauvaire. But he was greatly relieved
when the magistrate, anticipating his demand, told him that he did not
receive his rents until October, and that he would pay him then. At
the house of an old lady of seventy, a paralytic, the rebuff was of a
different kind. She was offended because her account had been sent to
her through a servant who had been impolite; so that he hastened to
offer her his excuses, giving her all the time she desired. Then he
climbed up three flights of stairs to the apartment of a clerk in the
tax collector's office, whom he found still ill, and so poor that he did
not even venture to make his demand. Then followed a mercer, a lawyer's
wife, an oil merchant, a baker--all well-to-do people; and all turned
him away, some with excuses, others by denying him admittance; a few
even pretended not to know what he meant. There remained the Marquise
de Valqueyras, the sole representative of a very ancient family, a widow
with a girl of ten, who was