rupt voice.

"Ever since his Louve has been sent to St. Lazare, Martial has gone on
like a madman, savage as a bear with every one. Pray is it our fault?
Can we help his sweetheart being put in prison? Only let her show her
face here when she comes out, and I'll serve her in such a way she
sha'n't forget one while! I'll match her! I'll--"

Here the widow, who had been buried in profound reflection, suddenly
interrupted her daughter by saying:

"You think something profitable might be got out of the old fellow who
lives in the doctor's house, do you not?"

"Yes, mother!"

"He looks poor and shabby as any common beggar!"

"And, for all that, he is a nobleman."

"A nobleman?"

"True as you're alive! And, what's more, he carries a purse full of
gold, spite of his always going into Paris, and returning, on foot,
leaning on an old stick, just for all the world like a poor wretch that
had not a sou in the world."

"How do you know that he has gold?"

"A little while ago I was at the post-office at Asnieres, to inquire
whether there was any letter for us from Toulon--"

At these words, which recalled the circumstance of her son's confinement
in the galleys, the brows of the widow were contracted with a dark
frown, while a half repressed sigh escaped her lips. Unheeding these
signs of perturbation, Calabash proceeded:

"I was waiting my turn, when the old man who lives at the doctor's house
entered the office. I knew him again directly, by his white hair and
beard, his dark complexion, and thick black eyebrows. He does not look
like one that would be easily managed, I can tell you; and, spite of his
age, he has the appearance of a determined old fool that would die
sooner than yield. He walked straight up to the postmistress. 'Pray,'
said he, 'have you any letters from Angers for M. le Comte de Remy?'
'Yes,' replied the woman, 'here is one.' 'Then it is for me,' said the
old man; 'here is my passport.' While the postmistress was examining it,
he drew out a green silk purse, to pay the postage; and, I promise you,
one end was stuffed with gold till it looked as large as an egg. I know
it was gold, for I saw the bright, yellow pieces shining through the
meshes of the purse; and I am quite certain there must have been at
least forty or fifty louis in it!" cried Calabash, her eyes glowing with
a covetous eagerness to possess herself of such a treasure. "And only to
think," continued she, "of a person, with all that mo