“Good-evening, mademoiselle and the rest of the company. I’ve brought you a cousin, and here she is; and a nice little girl too, upon my word. You have forty-seven francs to pay me, and sign my book.” Mademoiselle Sylvie and her brother were dumb with pleasure and amazement. “Excuse me,” said the conductor, “the coach is waiting. Sign my book and pay me forty-seven francs, sixty centimes, and whatever you please for myself and the conductor from Nantes; we’ve taken care of the little girl as if she were our own; and paid for her beds and her food, also her fare to Provins, and other little things.” “Forty-seven francs, twelve sous!” said Sylvie. “You are not going to dispute it?” cried the man. “Where’s the bill?” said Rogron. “Bill! look at the book.” “Stop talking, and pay him,” said Sylvie, “You see there’s nothing else to be done.” Rogron went to get the money, and gave the man forty-seven francs, twelve sous. “And nothing for my comrade and me?” said the conductor. Sylvie took two francs from the depths of the old velvet bag which held her keys. “Thank you, no,” said the man; “keep ‘em yourself. We would rather care for the little one for her own sake.” He picked up his book and departed, saying to the servant-girl: “What a pair! it seems there are crocodiles out of Egypt!” “Such men are always brutal,” said Sylvie, who overhead the words. “They took good care of the little girl, anyhow,” said Adele with her hands on her hips. “We don’t have to live with him,” remarked Rogron. “Where’s the little one to sleep?” asked Adele.