ss which exceeded her own; this utter
destitution to which he abandoned himself and the whole house. The
workmen of the faubourgs lived better. Thus it was that for a whole day
a terrible conflict went on within her. Her doglike love struggled with
her love for her money, amassed sou by sou, hidden away, "making more,"
as she said. She would rather have parted with a piece of her flesh.
So long as her master had not suffered alone the idea of touching her
treasure had not even occurred to her. And she displayed extraordinary
heroism the morning when, driven to extremity, seeing her stove cold
and the larder empty, she disappeared for an hour and then returned with
provisions and the change of a hundred-franc note.

Pascal, who just then chanced to come downstairs, asked her in
astonishment where the money had come from, furious already, and
prepared to throw it all into the street, imagining she had applied to
his mother.

"Why, no; why, no, monsieur!" she stammered, "it is not that at all."

And she told him the story that she had prepared.

"Imagine, M. Grandguillot's affairs are going to be settled--or at least
I think so. It occurred to me this morning to go to the assignee's to
inquire, and he told me that you would undoubtedly recover something,
and that I might have a hundred francs now. Yes, he was even satisfied
with a receipt from me. He knows me, and you can make it all right
afterward."

Pascal seemed scarcely surprised. She had calculated correctly that he
would not go out to verify her account. She was relieved, however, to
see with what easy indifference he accepted her story.

"Ah, so much the better!" he said. "You see now that one must never
despair. That will give me time to settle my affairs."

His "affairs" was the sale of La Souleiade, about which he had been
thinking vaguely. But what a grief to leave this house in which Clotilde
had grown up, where they had lived together for nearly eighteen years!
He had taken two or three weeks already to reflect over the matter. Now
that he had the hope of getting back a little of the money he had lost
through the notary's failure, he ceased to think any more about it. He
relapsed into his former indifference, eating whatever Martine served
him, not even noticing the comforts with which she once more surrounded
him, in humble adoration, heart-broken at giving her money, but very
happy to support him now, without his suspecting that his sustenance
came