She examined his upset visage with a kindly smile of maternal irony; this dear little _bourgeois_ for whom everything had been so easy and who could not conceive that one must make concessions for.... He asked once more: "Why? Tell me, why?" (He was quite crestfallen, as if it was he who was the botcher in paint!... Dear little boy! She would have liked to kiss him ... very properly, on his forehead!) She answered gently: "Why, in order to live." He was quite overcome. He had never dreamed of it. "Life is complicated," she went on in a light and mocking tone. "In the first place it is necessary to eat, and then to eat every day. In the evening one has dined. It's necessary to begin again the next day. And then it's necessary to dress oneself. Dress oneself completely, body, head, hands, feet. That's so far as clothing is concerned! And then pay for it all. For everything. Life, it's just paying." For the first time he saw what had escaped the shortsightedness of his love: the modest fur in some places worn, the shoes somewhat the worse for wear, the traces of embarrassed means which the natural elegance of a little Parisian woman makes one forget. And his heart contracted within him. "Ah! couldn't I be allowed, couldn't I be permitted to help you?" She moved away from him a bit and reddened: "No, no," she returned, much upset, "there's no question of that.... Never!... I have no need...." "But it would make me so happy!" "No.... Nothing more to be said about that. Or we shall not be friends any more...." "We are friends, then?" "Yes. That's to say, if you are so still after you have seen these horrible daubs?" "Surely, surely! It isn't your fault." "But do they trouble you?" "Oh, yes." She laughed out contentedly. "That makes you laugh, naughty girl!" "No, it's not being naughty. You do not understand." "Then why do you laugh?" "I shan't tell you." (She was thinking: "Love! how kind you are to be troubled because I have done something that is ugly!") She went on: "You are so kind. Thank you." (He looked at her with astonished eyes.) "Don't try to understand," said she, tapping him softly on his hand.... "There, let's talk of something else...." "Yes. But one word more.... Still, I could wish to know.... Tell me (and don't be hurt).... Are you at the present moment a bit strapped?" "No, no, I told you that just now, because there have been now and then hard times. But now it goes much better. Mama has found a situation where she is well paid." "Your mother is at work?" "Yes, in a munitions factory. She gets twelve francs a day. It's a fortune." "In a factory! A war factory!" "Yes." "Why, it's frightful!" "Oh, well! One takes what offers!" "Luce! but if you, you should have such an offer?..." "Oh, me? You see yourself, I just daub. Ah! You perceive now that I have good reason to make my smears!"