ther hand, throwing the
potatoes into the water as they were done. Three daring fowls jumped one
after the other into her lap, seized a bit of peel, and then ran away as
fast as their legs would carry them with it in their beak.

Chicot seemed embarrassed, anxious, with something on the tip of his
tongue which he could not get out. At last he said hurriedly:

"I say, Mother Magloire--"

"Well, what is it?"

"You are quite sure that you do not want to sell your farm?"

"Certainly not; you may make up your mind to that. What I have said, I
have said, so don't refer to it again."

"Very well; only I fancy I have thought of an arrangement that might
suit us both very well."

"What is it?"

"Here you are. You shall sell it to me, and keep it all the same. You
don't understand? Very well, so just follow me in what I am going to
say."

The old woman left off peeling her potatoes, and looked at the innkeeper
attentively from under her bushy eyebrows, and he went on:

"Let me explain myself. Every month I will give you one hundred and
fifty francs. You understand me, I suppose? Every month I will come and
bring you thirty crowns[13] and it will not make the slightest
difference in your life--not the very slightest. You will have your own
home just as you have now, will not trouble yourself about me, and will
owe me nothing; all you will have to do will be to take my money. Will
that arrangement suit you?"

He looked at her good-humoredly, one might almost have said
benevolently, and the old woman returned his looks distrustfully, as if
she suspected a trap, and said:

"It seems all right, as far as I am concerned, but it will not give you
the farm."

"Never mind about that," he said, "you will remain here as long as it
pleases God Almighty to let you live; it will be your home. Only you
will sign a deed before a lawyer making it over to me after your death.
You have no children, only nephews and nieces for whom you don't care a
straw. Will that suit you? You will keep everything during your life,
and I will give you the thirty crowns a month. It is pure gain as far as
you are concerned."

The old woman was surprised, rather uneasy, but nevertheless, very much
tempted to agree, and answered:

"I don't say that I will not agree to it, but I must think about it.
Come back in a week, and we will talk it over again, and I will then
give you my definite answer."

And Chicot went off, as happy as a king who has co