at lamp confided to him to repair, but that truly he was a
lamp-maker against whom the whole world shrieked out, Mr. The Englishman
seized the occasion.

"Madame, that baby--"

"Pardon, monsieur. That lamp."

"No, no, that little girl."

"But, pardon!" said Madame Bonclet, angling for a clew, "one cannot light
a little girl, or send her to be repaired?"

"The little girl--at the house of the barber."

"Ah-h-h!" cried Madame Bouclet, suddenly catching the idea with her
delicate little line and rod. "Little Bebelle? Yes, yes, yes! And her
friend the Corporal? Yes, yes, yes, yes! So genteel of him,--is it
not?"

"He is not--?"

"Not at all; not at all! He is not one of her relations. Not at all!"

"Why, then, he--"

"Perfectly!" cried Madame Bouclet, "you are right, monsieur. It is so
genteel of him. The less relation, the more genteel. As you say."

"Is she--?"

"The child of the barber?" Madame Bouclet whisked up her skilful little
line and rod again. "Not at all, not at all! She is the child of--in a
word, of no one."

"The wife of the barber, then--?"

"Indubitably. As you say. The wife of the barber receives a small
stipend to take care of her. So much by the month. Eh, then! It is
without doubt very little, for we are all poor here."

"You are not poor, madame."

"As to my lodgers," replied Madame Bouclet, with a smiling and a gracious
bend of her head, "no. As to all things else, so-so."

"You flatter me, madame."

"Monsieur, it is you who flatter me in living here."

Certain fishy gasps on Mr. The Englishman's part, denoting that he was
about to resume his subject under difficulties, Madame Bouclet observed
him closely, and whisked up her delicate line and rod again with
triumphant success.

"O no, monsieur, certainly not. The wife of the barber is not cruel to
the poor child, but she is careless. Her health is delicate, and she
sits all day, looking out at window. Consequently, when the Corporal
first came, the poor little Bebelle was much neglected."

"It is a curious--" began Mr. The Englishman.

"Name? That Bebelle? Again you are right, monsieur. But it is a
playful name for Gabrielle."

"And so the child is a mere fancy of the Corporal's?" said Mr. The
Englishman, in a gruffly disparaging tone of voice.

"Eh, well!" returned Madame Bouclet, with a pleading shrug: "one must
love something. Human nature is weak."

("Devilish weak," muttered the Englishm