francs? I will wear
myself to a rag to gain them. As to giving you bed and board--that is
nothing. A place will be laid for you here every day; you can have a
good room on the second floor, and a hundred crowns a month for
pocket-money."

The Baron, deeply touched by such a welcome, had a last qualm of
honor.

"No, my dear child, no; I did not come here for you to keep me," said
he.

"At your age it is something to be proud of," said she.

"This is what I wish, my child. Your Duc d'Herouville has immense
estates in Normandy, and I want to be his steward, under the name of
Thoul. I have the capacity, and I am honest. A man may borrow of the
Government, and yet not steal from a cash-box----"

"H'm, h'm," said Josepha. "Once drunk, drinks again."

"In short, I only want to live out of sight for three years--"

"Well, it is soon done," said Josepha. "This evening, after dinner, I
have only to speak. The Duke would marry me if I wished it, but I have
his fortune, and I want something better--his esteem. He is a Duke of
the first water. He is high-minded, as noble and great as Louis XIV.
and Napoleon rolled into one, though he is a dwarf. Besides, I have
done for him what la Schontz did for Rochefide; by taking my advice he
has made two millions.

"Now, listen to me, old popgun. I know you; you are always after the
women, and you would be dancing attendance on the Normandy girls, who
are splendid creatures, and getting your ribs cracked by their lovers
and fathers, and the Duke would have to get you out of the scrape.
Why, can't I see by the way you look at me that the _young_ man is not
dead in you--as Fenelon put it.--No, this stewardship is not the thing
for you. A man cannot be off with his Paris and with us, old boy, for
the saying! You would die of weariness at Herouville."

"What is to become of me?" said the Baron, "for I will only stay here
till I see my way."

"Well, shall I find a pigeon-hole for you? Listen, you old pirate.
Women are what you want. They are consolation in all circumstances.
Attend now.--At the end of the Alley, Rue Saint-Maur-du-Temple, there
is a poor family I know of where there is a jewel of a little girl,
prettier than I was at sixteen.--Ah! there is a twinkle in your eye
already!--The child works sixteen hours a day at embroidering costly
pieces for the silk merchants, and earns sixteen sous a day--one sou
an hour!--and feeds like the Irish, on potatoes fried in rats'
dripping,