rt, I don't
care to wake up some fine morning chopped in quarters, as happened to
that poor servant-girl who was silly enough to defend her master. Well!
if the robbers knew there was a man in the house as brave as Caesar
and who wasn't born yesterday,--for Max could swallow three burglars as
quick as a flash,--well, then I should sleep easy. People may tell you a
lot of stuff,--that I love him, that I adore him,--and some say this and
some say that! Do you know what you ought to say? You ought to answer
that you know it; that your father told you on his deathbed to take care
of his poor Max. That will stop people's tongues; for every stone in
Issoudun can tell you he paid Max's schooling--and so! Here's nine years
that I have eaten your bread--"

"Flore,--Flore!"

"--and many a one in this town has paid court to me, I can tell you!
Gold chains here, and watches there,--what don't they offer me? 'My
little Flore,' they say, 'why won't you leave that old fool of a
Rouget,'--for that's what they call you. 'I leave him!' I always answer,
'a poor innocent like that? I think I see myself! what would become of
him? No, no, where the kid is tethered, let her browse--'"

"Yes, Flore; I've none but you in this world, and you make me happy.
If it will give you pleasure, my dear, well, we will have Maxence Gilet
here; he can eat with us--"

"Heavens! I should hope so!"

"There, there! don't get angry--"

"Enough for one is enough for two," she answered laughing. "I'll tell
you what you can do, my lamb, if you really mean to be kind; you must go
and walk up and down near the Mayor's office at four o'clock, and manage
to meet Monsieur Gilet and invite him to dinner. If he makes excuses,
tell him it will give me pleasure; he is too polite to refuse. And after
dinner, at dessert, if he tells you about his misfortunes, and the hulks
and so forth--for you can easily get him to talk about all that--then
you can make him the offer to come and live here. If he makes any
objection, never mind, I shall know how to settle it."

Walking slowly along the boulevard Baron, the old celibate reflected,
as much as he had the mind to reflect, over this incident. If he were
to part from Flore (the mere thought confused him) where could he find
another woman? Should he marry? At his age he should be married for his
money, and a legitimate wife would use him far more cruelly than Flore.
Besides, the thought of being deprived of her tenderness, e