at uncle of Theodose. I wonder if du Portail can be the
secret benefactor who sent money from time to time to that rascal?
Suppose I send an anonymous letter to the old fellow, warning him of
the danger the barrister runs from those notes for twenty-five thousand
francs?"

An hour later the cot-bed had arrived for Madame Cardinal, to whom the
inquisitive portress offered her services to bring her something to eat.

"Do you want to see the rector?" Madame Cardinal inquired of her uncle.

She had noticed that the arrival of the bed seemed to draw him from his
somnolence.

"I want wine!" replied the pauper.

"How do you feel now, Pere Toupillier?" asked Madame Perrache, in a
coaxing voice.

"I tell you I want wine," repeated the old man, with an energetic
insistence scarcely to be expected of his feebleness.

"We must first find out if it is good for you, uncle," said Madame
Cardinal, soothingly. "Wait till the doctor comes."

"Doctor! I won't have a doctor!" cried Toupillier; "and you, what are
you doing here? I don't want anybody."

"My good uncle, I came to know if you'd like something tasty. I've got
some nice fresh soles--hey! a bit of fried sole, with a squeeze of lemon
on it?"

"Your fish, indeed!" cried Toupillier; "all rotten! That last you
brought me, more than six weeks ago, it is there in the cupboard; you
can take it away with you."

"Heavens! how ungrateful sick men are!" whispered the widow Cardinal to
Perrache.

Nevertheless, to exhibit solicitude, she arranged the pillow under the
patient's head, saying:--

"There! uncle, don't you feel better like that?"

"Let me alone!" shouted Toupillier, angrily; "I want no one here; I want
wine; leave me in peace."

"Don't get angry, little uncle; we'll fetch you some wine."

"Number six wine, rue des Canettes," cried the pauper.

"Yes, I know," replied Madame Cardinal; "but let me count out my
coppers. I want to get something better for you than that kind of wine;
for, don't you see, an uncle, he's a kind of father, and one shouldn't
mind what one does for him."

So saying, she sat down, with her legs apart, on one of the dilapidated
chairs, and poured into her apron the contents of her pockets, namely:
a knife, her snuff-box, two pawn-tickets, some crusts of bread, and a
handful of copper, from which she extracted a few silver bits.

This exhibition, intended to prove her generous and eager devotion, had
no result. Toupillier seemed not to n