very rich, and whose avarice was notorious.
He had left her for the last, for he was greatly afraid of her. Finally
he knocked at the door of her ancient mansion, at the foot of the Cours
Sauvaire, a massive structure of the time of Mazarin. He remained so
long in the house that Clotilde, who was walking under the trees, at
last became uneasy.

When he finally made his appearance, at the end of a full half hour, she
said jestingly, greatly relieved:

"Why, what was the matter? Had she no money?"

But here, too, he had been unsuccessful; she complained that her tenants
did not pay her.

"Imagine," he continued, in explanation of his long absence, "the little
girl is ill. I am afraid that it is the beginning of a gastric fever. So
she wished me to see the child, and I examined her."

A smile which she could not suppress came to Clotilde's lips.

"And you prescribed for her?"

"Of course; could I do otherwise?"

She took his arm again, deeply affected, and he felt her press it
against her heart. For a time they walked on aimlessly. It was all over;
they had knocked at every debtor's door, and nothing now remained for
them to do but to return home with empty hands. But this Pascal refused
to do, determined that Clotilde should have something more than the
potatoes and water which awaited them. When they ascended the Cours
Sauvaire, they turned to the left, to the new town; drifting now whither
cruel fate led them.

"Listen," said Pascal at last; "I have an idea. If I were to speak to
Ramond he would willingly lend us a thousand francs, which we could
return to him when our affairs are arranged."

She did not answer at once. Ramond, whom she had rejected, who was now
married and settled in a house in the new town, in a fair way to become
the fashionable physician of the place, and to make a fortune! She knew,
indeed, that he had a magnanimous soul and a kind heart. If he had not
visited them again it had been undoubtedly through delicacy. Whenever
they chanced to meet, he saluted them with so admiring an air, he seemed
so pleased to see their happiness.

"Would that be disagreeable to you?" asked Pascal ingenuously. For his
part, he would have thrown open to the young physician his house, his
purse, and his heart.

"No, no," she answered quickly. "There has never been anything between
us but affection and frankness. I think I gave him a great deal of pain,
but he has forgiven me. You are right; we have no othe