received
the half-yearly payment of my pension two weeks ago; but I had more
pressing debts than his, and I was forced to put aside my rent for fear
of being turned out of the house. I have told you the state my daughter
is in, and you have probably heard her."

He looked uneasily at Godefroid, who made him an affirmative sign.

"Well, then, you know it would be her death warrant, for I should then
be compelled to put her in a hospital. My grandson and I were fearing
that end this morning; but we do not dread Cartier so much as we do the
cold."

"My dear Monsieur Bernard," said Godefroid, "I have plenty of wood; take
all you want."

"Ah!" said the old man, "but how can I ever return such services?"

"By accepting them without difficulty," said Godefroid, quickly, "and by
giving me your confidence."

"But what are my claims to so much generosity?" asked Monsieur Bernard,
becoming once more distrustful. "Ah! my pride and that of my grandson
are lowered indeed!" he cried bitterly. "We are compelled to offer
explanations to the few creditors--only two or three--whom we cannot
pay. The utterly unfortunate have no creditors; to have them one must
needs present an exterior of some show, and that we have now lost. But I
have not yet abdicated my common-sense,--my reason," he added, as if he
were talking to himself.

"Monsieur," replied Godefroid, gravely, "the history you gave me
yesterday would touch even a usurer."

"No, no! for Barbet, that publisher, the proprietor of this house, is
speculating on my poverty, and has sent the Vauthier woman, his former
cook, to spy upon it."

"How can he speculate upon you?" asked Godefroid.

"I will tell you later," replied the old man. "My daughter is cold, and
since you offer it, I am reduced to accept alms, were it even from my
worst enemy."

"I will carry in some wood," said Godefroid, gathering up ten or a dozen
sticks, and taking them into Monsieur Bernard's first room. The old
man took as many himself; and when he saw the little provision safely
deposited, he could not restrain the silly, and even idiotic smile with
which those who are saved from a mortal danger, which has seemed to them
inevitable, express their joy; for terror still lingers in their joy.

"Accept things from me, my dear Monsieur Bernard, without reluctance;
and when your daughter is safe, and you are once more at ease, we will
settle all. Meantime, let me act for you. I have been to see that Polish