"What do you suppose I would like to have at this moment?" I asked him, as he sadly shifted his umbrellas from his right arm to his left. "A cane, perhaps? I have one with a crow's beak head that would please you." "No, no! I never carry a cane. What I would like at this moment is a theatre ticket for this evening." Dumouton's face fairly beamed. "For what theatre?" he cried. "Faith! that makes no difference; but I would like a whole box." "I have what you want, I have it right in my pocket. See, a box at the Gymnase!" "The Gymnase it is!" Dumouton took from his pocket an old notebook, or wallet, or, to speak more accurately, two pieces of leather--just what to call it, I do not know; but it contained a mass of papers, some old and soiled, others clean and new. He produced from it a pink one, which proved to be a ticket for a box at the Gymnase. I took the ticket and read at the foot of it the name of one of our most popular authors. Dumouton restored his papers to his pocket, put his umbrellas under his left arm once more, and looked at me with an anxious expression, murmuring: "Don't you want it?" "Yes, indeed! But I was reading the name on it." "Oh! that's of no consequence; I asked for it for him, but he can't go. You'll take it, then, will you?" "Yes, gladly." "There's only one thing. I have promised a box to some people to whom I am under obligations, and I can't break my word. It's too late to go to the theatre to ask for one, so I must buy one of a ticket broker; and I don't know whether----" I did not let him finish the sentence. "I don't propose that you shall be put to any expense on my account. How much will the ticket cost you?" "Oh! a hundred sous, I suppose." "Here's the money; and I am your debtor." Dumouton pocketed the five francs with a radiant air. But he took his umbrellas in his hand again and held them out to me. "I am sorry that you won't take one of these," he said. I glanced at them, and replied: "But neither of them is new." "Oh! that may be; we bought them at second-hand. But they are good ones, and not dear. I will give you your choice for ten francs." It was clear to my mind that poor Dumouton was sadly in need of money. Why should I not gratify him by buying an umbrella? That was simply a roundabout way of asking a favor. I took one of the umbrellas at random, and said: "Well, if it will relieve you,--and I can understand that these two are a luxury, if you have five at home,--give me this one. Here's the ten francs." Dumouton took the money and slipped one of the umbrellas under my arm so rapidly that I thought that he had run it into me; and fearing perhaps that I would change my mind and go back on my bargain, he left me on the instant, saying: "I am very glad you needed an umbrella. Bonjour, Monsieur Rochebrune! hope to see you again soon!"