“How much do you make a day?” “Twenty sous, sometimes thirty. That depends on the day. There have been times when we have made more than two francs. But that is rare. I have my rent to pay and three mouths to feed, my two dogs and myself.” “Where do you get your clothes?” “They are given me by one and another. The butcher, the grocer, the cabinetmaker, these are very kind to me.” “Are you happy all alone so?” “I am not all alone. I have my dogs. The only thing I lack is my eyesight. But I thank Providence every day for keeping me in good health.” It was in consequence of a malignant fever that he had lost his eyesight, for unlike my blind man at Passy, this man was not born blind. Formerly he had been able to admire nature, to see pretty girls in a country flooded with sunlight, to enjoy with his own eyes the smile in other eyes, in eyes tender and well loved. In short he had seen. What sadness his must be, to be unable to see again! With much diplomacy I asked him about this. He had far less difficulty in answering me. “I used to admire many pretty things,” he said. “I still have them carefully enclosed under my eyelids. I see them again whenever I wish, just as if they were there before me once again. And so, you see, as these are things of my youth it seems to me that, in spite of everything, in spite of being such an old hulk as I am, I have remained young. And I thank the dear Lord for having been kind enough not to have made me blind from birth.” “And how old are you?” “Eighty years, madam.” This old man had a long walk before him to get back to his residence. As I commiserated him regarding this, he replied: “There is no reason for complaining, madam, I have such a good guide, such a brave little comrade!” He made an almost theatrical gesture, and said, in a voice filled with emotion: “My dog!” “Does he guide you through the streets of Marseilles?” “He does!” “And no accident happens to you?” “Never. One day I was crossing a street. My dog pulled at me so hard from behind that I fell backward. I was just in time. A step more and I should have been crushed by a tramcar, which grazed me. I am mighty lucky, come now, to have a dog like that.” In all circumstances this old man was willing to see only the favourable side of things. That side, at least with the eyes of imagination, the blind man could see. One day the charwoman who came to our house at Passy to help the servants arrived very late. As she was ordinarily exceedingly punctual, I reproached her in a way I should not have done if she had been habitually unpunctual. Here is what I found out about this brave woman.