rdinances, full of a touching interest for the
canine race, which forbid the harnessing of dogs.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE DEN.

Rodin's countenance, when he entered Mother Arsene's shop, was expressive
of the most simple candor. He leaned his hands on the knob of his
umbrella, and said: "I much regret, my good lady, that I roused you so
early this morning."

"You do not come often enough, my dear sir, for me to find fault with
you."

"How can I help it, my good lady? I live in the country, and only come
hither from time to time to settle my little affairs."

"Talking of that sir, the letter you expected yesterday has arrived this
morning. It is large, and comes from far. Here it is," said the
greengrocer, drawing it from her pocket; "it cost nothing for postage."

"Thank you, my dear lady," said Rodin, taking the letter with apparent
indifference, and putting it into the side-pocket of his great-coat,
which he carefully buttoned over.

"Are you going up to your rooms, sir?"

"Yes, my good, lady."

"Then I will get ready your little provisions," said Mother Arsene; "as
usual, I suppose, my dear sir?"

"Just as usual."

"It shall be ready in the twinkling of an eye, sir."

So saying, the greengrocer took down an old basket; after throwing into
it three or four pieces of turf, a little bundle of wood, and some
charcoal, she covered all this fuel with a cabbage leaf; then, going to
the further end of the shop, she took from a chest a large round loaf,
cut off a slice, and selecting a magnificent radish with the eye of a
connoisseur, divided it in two, made a hole in it, which she filled with
gray salt joined the two pieces together again, and placed it carefully
by the side of the bread, on the cabbage leaf which separated the
eatables from the combustibles. Finally, taking some embers from the
stove, she put them into a little earthen pot, containing ashes, which
she placed also in the basket.

Then, reascending to her top step, Mother Arsene said to Rodin: "Here is
your basket, sir."

"A thousand thanks, my good lady," answered Rodin, and plunging his hand
into the pocket of his trousers, he drew forth eight sous, which he
counted out only one by one to the greengrocer, and said to her, as he
carried off his store: "Presently, when I come down again, I will return
your basket as usual."

"Quite at your service, my dear sir, quite at your service," said Mother
Arsene.

Rodin tucked his umbrella und