I held out the money to the concierge, who did not take it, because she was wiping her eyes. My action seemed to her very meritorious, and yet it was no more than just. "You are a very good man, monsieur," she said at last, in a tearful voice; "if everybody thought as you do, seamstresses could live and we should see fewer poor wretches on the streets at night. But still, I don't know whether I ought to take the sum you offer me." "Why not, pray?" "Because the little woman's so proud in her poverty. She'll say: 'He only owed me twenty-seven francs, and you ought not to have taken any more.'" "You can explain to her that it's the price I always pay." "Oh, yes! but that won't seem right to her. _Dame!_ what can you expect? She's suspicious, as I told you. And, worse luck! people do so few--honest things in these days----" "You must remind her that her daughter may need a thousand things." "Oh, yes! I know; that's where I shall have to catch her. Well, I'll keep what you give me; and I can give it back if she won't take it." "She must take it! But that is not all, madame; has she much work at this moment?" "I don't think so; so this money'll come in very handy." "That isn't enough; it will soon be spent." "The deuce! how fast you go! My, thirty-six francs is a lot of money!" "I would like to give Madame Landernoy other work to do." "But you can't go on having shirts made forever." "Mon Dieu! what can I give her? Ah! does she make waistcoats?" "I believe she tried one for the landlord's little boy; but they said it was a failure. Still, that little fellow's terrible hard to suit; he had his cap made over five times, and finally swore he'd have a three-cornered hat! He's so spoiled that he's unreasonable. But just let him try again to set my cats fighting!" "Then it's understood, madame, that I am to buy some material for waistcoat fronts, which I will bring you, together with a pattern, and you are to give the work to Madame Landernoy to do, and tell her not to worry; that her customer isn't exacting, that I am having them made for someone in the country." The concierge dropped her cats to shake hands with me. "I understand you, monsieur," she said; "you're afraid the young mother won't have work enough; you mean to give her work, by hook or by crook. You're interested in her, and I'll bet that she makes a mistake to suspicion you. Oh! I know what's what, I do; I can scent one of those empty-headed puppies who comes to talk nonsense, when he's a mile away! They don't go about it the way you do; they slip a piece of money in my hand, with a little note that smells of musk and hair oil, and then they examine the house and the yard and the windows as if they meant to break in. I know 'em, I know 'em!" "No, Madame Potrelle, I am not a lover--here, at all events." "_Pardi!_ I can understand that you may be, somewhere else. It would be a pity if you didn't think about such things, at your age."