p. Perhaps I should be
better served elsewhere, but Mother Genevieve has but little custom; to
leave her would do her harm and cause her unnecessary pain. It seems to
me that the length of our acquaintance has made me incur a sort of tacit
obligation to her; my patronage has become her property.

She has put the basket upon my table, and as I wanted her husband, who
is a joiner, to add some shelves to my bookcase, she has gone downstairs
again immediately to send him to me.

At first I did not notice either her looks or the sound of her voice;
but, now that I recall them, it seems to me that she was not as jovial
as usual. Can Mother Genevieve be in trouble about anything?

Poor woman! All her best years were subject to such bitter trials that
she might think she had received her full share already. Were I to live
a hundred years I should never forget the circumstances which first
made her known to me and which obtained her my respect.

It was at the time of my first settling in the faubourg. I had noticed
her empty fruit shop, which nobody came into, and being attracted by its
forsaken appearance I made my little purchases in it. I have always
instinctively preferred the poor shops; there is less choice in them,
but it seems to me that my purchase is a sign of sympathy with a brother
in poverty. These little dealings are almost always an anchor of hope to
those whose very existence is in peril--the only means by which some
orphan gains a livelihood. There the aim of the tradesman is not to
enrich himself, but to live! The purchase you make of him is more than
an exchange--it is a good action.

Mother Genevieve at that time was still young, but had already lost that
fresh bloom of youth which suffering causes to wither so soon among the
poor. Her husband, a clever joiner, gradually left off working to
become, according to the picturesque expression of the workshops, "a
worshipper of Saint Monday." The wages of the week, which was always
reduced to two or three working days, were completely dedicated by him
to the worship of this god of the Barriers,[315-2] and Genevieve was
obliged herself to provide for all the wants of the household.

One evening, when I went to make some trifling purchases of her, I heard
a sound of quarreling in the back shop. There were the voices of several
women, among which I distinguished that of Genevieve, broken by sobs. On
looking further in, I perceived the fruit-woman with a child in