don't you see, the mock stones look every bit as well as the real
stones? Yet great ladies, who only use such things as ornaments, would
never think of sacrificing one of their diamonds to relieve the distress
of such unfortunate beings as we are."

"Come, come, wife! Be more reasonable than this; sorrow makes you
unjust. Who do you think knows that such people as Morel and his family
are in existence, still less that they are in want?"

"Oh, what a man you are, Morel! I really believe, if any one were to cut
you in pieces, that, while they were doing it, you would try to say,
'Thank you!'"

Morel compassionately shrugged his shoulders.

"And how much will Madame Mathieu owe you this morning?" asked
Madeleine.

"Nothing; because you know I have already had an advance of 120 francs."

"Nothing! Why, our last sou went the day before yesterday. We have not a
single farthing belonging to us!"

"Alas, no!" cried Morel, with a dejected air.

"Well, then, what are we to do?"

"I know not."

"The baker refuses to let us have anything more on credit,--will he?"

"No; and I was obliged yesterday to beg Madame Pipelet to lend me part
of a loaf."

"Can we borrow anything more of Mother Burette?"

"She has already every article belonging to us in pledge. What have we
to offer her to lend more money on,--our children?" asked Morel, with a
smile of bitterness.

"But yourself, my mother, and all the children had but part of a loaf
among you all yesterday. You cannot go on in this way; you will be
starved to death. It is all your fault that we are not on the books of
the charitable institution this year."

"They will not admit any persons without they possess furniture, or some
such property; and you know we have nothing in the world. We are looked
upon as though we lived in furnished apartments, and, consequently,
ineligible. Just the same if we tried to get into any asylum, the
children are required to have at least a blouse, while our poor things
have only rags. Then, as to the charitable societies, one must go
backwards and forwards twenty times before we should obtain relief; and
then what would it be? Why, a loaf once a month, and half a pound of
meat once a fortnight.[5] I should lose more time than it would be
worth."

[5] Such is the ordinary allowance made at charitable
societies, in consequence of the vast number of applicants for
relief.

"But, still, what are we to do?"

"Perhaps the lady who