"I will go and buy the material and bring it to you." "But that will give you the trouble of coming back again, monsieur. If you want, I can save you that. My niece happens to be here just now, and she can look out for my lodge while I go to monsieur's address; and I'll tell you at the same time whether Madame Landernoy consents to take the thirty-six francs." Something told me that the woman had some hidden reason for making that suggestion. I fancied that she desired to come to my lodgings, so that she might find out more about me and be certain that I had given my own name in my letter to Mignonne; indeed, might it not be that the young mother herself had asked her to try to find out who I was? As I had nothing to fear from such information as Madame Potrelle could collect about me, I accepted her proposal. "Here is my address," I said, handing her one of my cards. "Be there in two hours, and I shall have made my purchases. Please be good enough to bring me my shirts at the same time." "With pleasure, monsieur!" Madame Potrelle was prompt; I had been at home only a few minutes, when Pomponne appeared and said with comic gravity: "There's a woman outside asking for you, monsieur. She has something in her apron, and a parcel under her arm. I suppose she's a second-hand dealer who wants to sell you something." "Hold your tongue, Pomponne, and show her in!" My servant obeyed my order, although he seemed much puzzled that I received in my salon a person whom he evidently considered unworthy of the honor; and he kept his eye on the object which the concierge held to her breast, wrapped in her apron. I motioned to him to withdraw, and he left the room, walking backward. Madame Potrelle made a succession of reverences, and handed me my shirts, which she had under her arm, wrapped in a handkerchief. The good woman expressed her admiration of my apartments and their furnishings; which goes to show that opulence always produces its effect on the multitude and on private individuals as well. I tried to put her at her ease, and forced her to sit down in an easy-chair; but she continued to hug her apron to her breast, and it seemed to embarrass her. At last she partly opened the apron, saying: "I beg your pardon, monsieur, for venturing to bring him here--but he never goes out, poor dear, and I thought it would do him good." "What do you mean, Madame Potrelle? have you got a child in there?" "No, monsieur, no; it's one of my cats, Bribri, the youngest one. The others let him be and won't ever play with him, just because he limps a bit, poor little rascal! He's got a little trouble in his leg. Cats are as bad as men; they turn up their noses at the weak ones! That's why I wanted to give the poor dear a little pleasure." "You did well, Madame Potrelle; let Bribri run about a little, if you wish." "You see, monsieur, my cats are well brought up; they ain't capable of forgetting themselves, no matter where they be." "I am sure of it."