"Excuse my absence, father; I am compelled to go away again, and this time without saying good-bye to you. But don't be anxious; you will hear from me often, and I hope to see you again before long." "And he don't say where he's going!" murmured Sans-Cravate. "What a pity! you could have written to him at once that he could come back, that everything was forgiven." "Perhaps he will tell me where he is, in his first letter," suggested Monsieur Vermoncey; "then I will write to him, or else we will both go and join them." "Ah! yes, yes, we will do that, that's a fine idea; but till then I must be patient. Will you allow me, monsieur, to come often to ask whether you have heard from your son?" "Whenever you choose, my friend; you are no longer a stranger to me. Here, Étienne, take this purse, and give up your trade; from this moment you do not need to earn money." Sans-Cravate declined the money that was offered him, and replied, in a melancholy tone: "No, monsieur, not yet; my sister ain't your son's wife as yet; until then, let me stay as I am." Monsieur Vermoncey's persistent entreaties could not shake his determination. "Let's hope they will come back," he said, as he went away, "or that we shall soon find out where they are." He returned to his stand, lost in thought, with no desire to laugh or dance, and saying to himself: "Was it because he learned that Liline had found her brother that Monsieur Albert carried her off so quick?" XXVII LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP When Paul lay on the ground, unconscious, after he had been wounded on the head and arm by his fall, Bastringuette had hastened to the spot; and seeing Sans-Cravate walk rapidly away, she had partly divined the cause of the younger man's deplorable condition. "Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" cried the girl; "they have been fighting--or, rather, Sans-Cravate insisted on fighting this poor boy, who ain't strong enough to stand up to him. And it must have been jealousy that made Sans-Cravate do it--because he saw me talking to Paul. I'm the cause of his hard luck--or my beastly coquetry, my foolish idea of changing lovers, when I was well off. But that's how it always is in love; when you're well off, it bores you, and you want to change; when you're badly off, you stay as you are." While she talked thus to herself, Bastringuette did what she could for the young messenger. The people who had collected talked about carrying him to the nearest hospital, but Bastringuette cried out at the word: "I guess not much! You don't catch me letting this poor boy go to the hospital while I have a decent place to take him to! He must have rooms somewhere himself; but as he can't talk just now, he can't tell us where they are. Anyway, it will be more convenient for me to nurse him and make herb tea for him in my room; for these boys never have a kettle fit to boil water in."