have taken a lodging again
at Mother Francoise's, but now I can pay for a room all to myself."

"Were you rich then, that you were able to invite a friend to dinner?"
asked the blind man.

"If I only dare tell you," said Perrine timidly.

"You can tell me everything," said the blind man.

"I may take up your time just to tell you a story about two little
girls?" asked little Perrine.

"Now that I cannot use my time as I should like," said the blind man
sadly, "it is often very long, very long ... and empty."

A shade passed over her grandfather's face. He had so much; there were men
who envied him--and yet how sad and barren was his life. When he said that
his days were "empty" Perrine's heart went out to him. She also, since the
death of her father and mother, knew what it was for the days to be long
and empty, nothing to fill them but the anxiety, the fatigue, and the
misery of the moment. No one to share them with you, none to uphold you, or
cheer you. He had not known bodily fatigue, privations and poverty. But
they are not the only trials to be borne, there are other sorrows in this
world from which one suffers. And it was those other sorrows that had made
him say those few words in such a sad, sad tone; the memory of which made
this old blind man bend his head while the tears sprang into his sightless
eyes. But no tears fell. Perrine's eyes had not left his face; if she had
seen that her story did not interest him, she would have stopped at once,
but she knew that he was not bored. He interrupted her several times and
said:

"And you did that!"

Then he questioned her, asking her to tell him in detail what she had
omitted for fear of tiring him. He put questions to her which showed that
he wished to have an exact account, not only of her work, but above all to
know what means she had employed to replace all that she had been lacking.

"And that's what you did?" he asked again and again.

When she had finished her story, he placed his hand on her head: "You
are a brave little girl," he said, "and I am pleased to see that one can
do something with you. Now go into your office and spend the time as you
like; at three o'clock we will go out."

CHAPTER XX

THE SCHEMERS

Mr. Bendit's office which Perrine occupied was a tiny place whose sole
furniture consisted of a table and two chairs, a bookcase in blackwood,
and a map of the world.

Yet with its polished pine floor, and a window with its red