‘You cannot, indeed!’ exclaimed madame; ‘my cookery is vile, it is baser than dirt. I am an abject cook.’ ‘Oh, Josephine, neither Gabrielle André nor I are particular.’ ‘André!’ exclaimed Madame Deschwanden. ‘Do you tell me the name of this seraph is André? Is she the daughter of Matthias André of Les Hirondelles?’ ‘To be sure she is.’ Madame now cast herself on the neck of the peasant girl, sobbed loudly, and wept copiously. ‘To think it is you! the daughter of Matthias, who adored me, when I was your age. Yes, child; your father when a young man was my most devoted admirer; but, ah, bah! every one admired me then, but he above them all. And if I had accepted him as my husband--to think _you_ might then have been my daughter. Poor Matthias! how is he?’ Percenez checked her with a look and shake of the head. ‘Well, well! we all die, more’s the pity; and your mother--dead too! Ah well! every sentence ends in a full stop, and so does the long rigmarole of life. Then in pity’s sake let life be a Jubilate and not a De Profundis.’ ‘About meals?’ said Percenez. His sister’s countenance fell at once, but she rapidly recovered. ‘Exactly. You will hear all the news at the Boot. Superb place for gossip. Oh you men, you men! you charge us women with tittle-tattling, and when you get together--’ she wagged her finger at him and laughed. ‘Now, be quick, Étienne! my brother, and you, my angel, Mademoiselle André, and get your dinners over quick, and come here and tell us the news, and we shall have a charming evening.’ ‘My sister,’ said Percenez, ‘you must really listen to my proposal. I may be in Paris for weeks--perhaps months. I intend to pursue my business of selling newspapers and pamphlets here in Paris for a while, that is, during the session of the States-General, and I cannot think of troubling you with my presence as a guest. Will you let us lodge with you? I will pay you so much a week for my bed and board, and Gabrielle shall do the same. She has a mission to perform in Paris, and though I am not sanguine of her success, nevertheless she must make an attempt. She can join Madeleine in selling flowers, and I will guarantee that you are no loser.’ ‘My own most cherished brother!’ exclaimed Madame Deschwanden; ‘do not think me so mercenary as all that. Gladly do I urge you to stay here, and join us at our frugal table. You are welcome to every scrap of food in the larder, and to every bed in the house. Far be it from me to be mercenary. I hate the word--I scorn to be thought it. _I_ care for money! No one has as yet hinted such a thing to me! No; you are welcome--welcome to a sister’s hospitality. The terms, by the way, you did not mention,’ she said, in a lower voice; ‘we have taken in boarders at----’