d."

As the sound of his heavy footsteps creaked down the stairs, Jean came
out and flung himself on the chair which M. Plon had occupied.

"Now that that old idiot has taken himself off, let's see what he was
talking about."

"Is it true about the robbery?" asked Marie, leaning over his shoulder.

"So it seems."

"And the reward?"

"Twelve thousand francs."

"Twelve thousand francs!" repeated his wife in amazement. "Oh, you must
be mistaken!"

"There are the figures at any rate, see for yourself."

"Yes, I see. I suppose it must be so, as it is in the paper;
but--but--if we could only have a little part of it!"

"Ah, if!" said Jean with a shrug. "But how will you manage? Stand about
the corners of the Streets and ask every _escarpe_ that passes?"

"I could almost do that," his wife answered stoutly, "when I reflect
that with money we might have an advocate, and you might be free. My
store grows so slowly, Jean!"

Jean dashed the paper to the ground, and thrust his hands through his
hair.

"Don't talk of it, if you wouldn't madden me!" he exclaimed.
"Might--might--I am sick of mights! Cooped up here I can do nothing, but
if I had only common luck I might get the end of a clue as well as any
other poor devil. I tell you, Marie, I have half a mind to give myself
up, and end everything."

She clung to him, pale as death.

"No, no!"

"You'd get on better without me."

"No, no!"

Jean's tragic air vanished in a rush of real emotion. He put his wife
from him and looked at her sorrowfully.

"Poor soul!" he said slowly. "And you really mean that I haven't tired
you out yet with all my moods and cross words? No? Then, decidedly, we
must rub on a little longer still."

She embraced him with all the gratitude a woman feels when her good
offices are accepted.

"To-morrow," she said cheerfully, "to-morrow will bring you some
tobacco."

"To-morrow will also, I imagine, bring Perine," he replied, with a
laugh, and when he laughed it was possible to see what a handsome young
fellow the haggard man had been. "Well, I am not sure that Perine isn't
preferable to old Plon-Plon. When I hear him prosing away to you on the
duty of being contented, it's all I can do not to knock him down. You a
bad manager, indeed!"

"Do not talk of anything so imprudent."

"He would roll like a ball," said Jean longingly.

"Jean!"

"Bah, you need not fear. To do things sometimes in imagination is the
only way of keeping m