rvant, condemning the present with her sidelong glance.

Clotilde was seized with a little chill.

"Only," she murmured, "master has rummaged his desk again. Pearls are
very dear, are they not?"

Pascal, embarrassed, too, protested volubly, telling them of the
splendid opportunity presented by the dealer's visit. An incredibly good
stroke of business--it was impossible to avoid buying the necklace.

"How much?" asked the young girl with real anxiety.

"Three hundred francs."

Martine, who had not yet opened her lips, but who looked terrible in her
silence, could not restrain a cry.

"Good God! enough to live upon for six weeks, and we have not bread!"

Large tears welled from Clotilde's eyes. She would have torn the
necklace from her neck if Pascal had not prevented her. She wished to
give it to him on the instant, and she faltered in heart-broken tones:

"It is true, Martine is right. Master is mad, and I am mad, too, to keep
this for an instant, in the situation in which we are. It would burn my
flesh. Let me take it back, I beg of you."

Never would he consent to this, he said. Now his eyes, too, were moist,
he joined in their grief, crying that he was incorrigible, that they
ought to have taken all the money away from him. And running to the desk
he took the hundred francs that were left, and forced Martine to take
them, saying:

"I tell you that I will not keep another sou. I should spend this, too.
Take it, Martine; you are the only one of us who has any sense. You will
make the money last, I am very certain, until our affairs are settled.
And you, dear, keep that; do not grieve me."

Nothing more was said about this incident. But Clotilde kept the
necklace, wearing it under her gown; and there was a sort of delightful
mystery in feeling on her neck, unknown to every one, this simple,
pretty ornament. Sometimes, when they were alone, she would smile at
Pascal and draw the pearls from her dress quickly, and show them to him
without a word; and as quickly she would replace them again on her warm
neck, filled with delightful emotion. It was their fond folly which she
thus recalled to him, with a confused gratitude, a vivid and radiant
joy--a joy which nevermore left her.

A straitened existence, sweet in spite of everything, now began for
them. Martine made an exact inventory of the resources of the house, and
it was not reassuring. The provision of potatoes only promised to be
of any importance. As il