Soon after the departure of Master Teuzer, the landlord arrived: he
spoke roughly to the poor woman. "How is this? How dare you send that
potter to me? Did I force you to take this room? If it does not suit
you, why do you not leave it? The stove has lasted for thirty years, and
I certainly shall not buy a new one for you."

On hearing these invectives, Raphael had hidden behind his mother's bed.
Madelaine trembled, and dare not pronounce a word. But Madame Tube,
extending her hands and trying to rise, cried, "Oh! Mr. Duller, I am
quite innocent; I never thought of complaining of my room; I know but
too well that poor people cannot expect to lodge like princes. Master
Tenzer has been used to better stoves, but I am contented if the tiles
do not fall upon our heads."

These words softened the landlord a little. "If it is so," said he, "I
shall know how to treat this Master Tenzer if he comes again to meddle
with things which do not concern him; he preached me a sermon upon your
misery, and on the duty of assisting so poor a family. I am satisfied if
he chooses to help you, for I shall have the better security for my
rent. I have also called to inform you that an inspector of the poor
will call to inquire into your circumstances. I know they are none of
the best; but do not let him see the canary-bird, for then he will do
nothing for you. But stay--the bird pleases me, I will give you
half-a-crown for it--you had better sell it, for then you will have one
less to feed."

At these words, Raphael could not conceal his grief--his sobs were heard
from behind, the bed--but the hard-hearted landlord took up the cage, as
if the matter was settled.

Madame Tube, moved by the grief of her blind child, answered in a
decided tone, "No, Mr. Duller, I will not sell the bird, it is the joy
of my Raphael; only think what it is to be _blind_--to see nothing,
absolutely nothing, of the beautiful creation of God! All creation, all
the riches of nature belong to those who see; as for the blind, their
enjoyments are only those passing ones of taste and harmony. I can give
nothing but dry bread, potatoes, and water, to my blind child--the song
of his bird is his only enjoyment. Be comforted, my Raphael," she said,
turning to the weeping boy, "I will not sell your favorite."

"As you please," rejoined the landlord angrily; "my intention was good,"
and muttering to himself, he went away.

A few hours afterwards, a man knocked, and ann