er something.
Will you give eighty thousand francs for it?" abruptly asked Monsieur
Bonelle.

"Eighty thousand francs!" echoed Ramin. "Do you take me for Louis
Philippe or the Bank of France!"

"Then we'll say no more about it--are you not afraid of leaving your
shop so long?"

Ramin returned to the charge, heedless of the hint to depart. "The
fact is, my good old friend, ready money is not my strong point just
now. But if you wish very much to be relieved of the concern, what say
you to a life annuity? I could manage that."

Monsieur Bonelle gave a short, dry, church-yard cough, and looked as
if his life were not worth an hour's purchase. "You think yourself
immensely clever, I dare say," he said. "They have persuaded you that
I am dying. Stuff! I shall bury you yet."

The mercer glanced at the thin fragile frame, and exclaimed to
himself, "Deluded old gentleman!" "My dear Bonelle," he continued,
aloud, "I know well the strength of your admirable constitution: but
allow me to observe that you neglect yourself too much. Now, suppose
a good sensible doctor--"

"Will you pay him?" interrogated Bonelle, sharply.

"Most willingly," replied Ramin, with an eagerness that made the old
man smile. "As to the annuity, since the subject annoys you, we will
talk of it some other time."

"After you have heard the doctor's report," sneered Bonelle.

The mercer gave him a stealthy glance, which the old man's keen look
immediately detected. Neither could repress a smile: these good souls
understood one another perfectly, and Ramin saw that this was not the
Excellent Opportunity he desired, and departed.

The next day Ramin sent a neighboring medical man, and heard it was
his opinion that if Bonelle held on for three months longer, it would
be a miracle. Delightful news!

Several days elapsed, and although very anxious, Ramin assumed a
careless air, and did not call upon his landlord, or take any notice
of him. At the end of the week old Marguerite entered the shop to make
a trifling purchase.

"And how are we getting on up-stairs?" negligently asked Monsieur
Ramin.

"Worse and worse, my good sir," she sighed. "We have rheumatic pains
which often make us use expressions the reverse of Christian-like, and
yet nothing can induce us to see either the lawyer or the priest; the
gout is getting nearer to our stomach every day, and still we go on
talking about the strength of our constitution. Oh, sir, if you have
any influe