“I used to be, owing to infirmity, a real burden upon my family. I did whatever I could but I could not do much. I washed the dishes, lighted the fire, picked the vegetables, swept the floor, washed the windows, made the beds--perhaps badly, but at any rate I did all that, and although we were very poor at home they kept me. The day came, however, when my mother died. Then it was my father’s turn. I had to leave the empty house. I went on the road armed with my accordion, asking for alms. My accordion became my best friend. But I blundered along the roads. Then I met my dear companion who is with me, and I married her.” She was a cook, the woman told me this herself in an undertone, who had become too old to keep her place, and who consented to join her fate with that of the wandering blind man, serving as his guide along the roads. The blind man found this arrangement a blessing from Heaven, a kindness bestowed upon him by Providence. They were married without delay. “But how do you manage to live?” I asked. “Well, it is not always easy to make both ends meet, for alas! now and then, one of us falls ill. We are getting old, you understand. When it is not fatigue that gets the better of us, then there is always the cold. There are times when we cannot go out. Then it is necessary to take a notch in one’s girdle.” Each day they visited one district of Paris. They had divided the city into blocks, and they sometimes walked miles before arriving at their destination, for they lived far from the centre, in one of the poorest suburbs. “What day do you go by here?” “Every Sunday, before mass. Many people of this quarter go to church, and we encounter them going and coming.” “Do they give you something?” “It is a rich neighbourhood. We have several very good clients.” “Good what?” I asked. “Good clients?” “Yes, good clients,” he repeated simply. “And who are these clients?” “They are servants of the rich.” “Servants?” “Yes, some of them are very good. They give us old clothes; food and money when they can.” “And the rich people themselves?” “We do not see them often. This is the first time a client has ever invited us to lunch, and we have been going through this street for seven years. No one ever asked us to come in before.” “What do you do when you are tired?” “We sit down on a bench or on one of the steps, and we eat whatever we have in our pockets. Here we eat while they are at church.” “Very well. You will have no need to bring anything to eat the day you come by here. I invite you for every Sunday.” I expected impassioned thanks. The man said simply: “We thank you very much, good lady.” Shortly after, I left for a long tour in America, and during my absence my domestics received them every Sunday. From their point of view I was merely a sure client. One day I gave them tickets for a great concert. I was in the hall and observed them.