"Oh! brother, let me keep it, I beg you!" faltered the girl, falling on her knees; "for if he casts me off, it will be the only thing I shall have to give my child; he will have nothing else that belongs to his father!" Sans-Cravate raised his sister, and turned his head aside so that she might not see the tears which he wiped away with his sleeve. "All right! keep it," he said; "but let us go," and he led his sister away. They soon reached the place where the carriage awaited them. Sans-Cravate helped his sister in, took his place beside her, and said to the driver: "Now for Paris, corner of Rue Saint-Lazare and Rue Saint-Georges; a magnificent house, between a fruiterer and a grocer. If you go fast, I'll pay for a good big drink for you." It was dark, and the journey was melancholy enough; for the brother and sister, both of whom were suffering the same torments, did not choose to talk about them, each for fear of increasing the other's unhappiness. They arrived at last; Sans-Cravate kept his promise to the driver, and would have given him money too; but he declined it, for he was paid in advance. He drove away with his carriage, and the messenger, taking his sister's hand, said to her: "Follow me, and we'll climb up to my diggings. Look you: don't expect to find anything very fine, and you'll be less surprised." Sans-Cravate's lodging would have made an excellent pendant for Bastringuette's: it was under the eaves, like hers, and consisted of a bedroom and a closet; there was just the same amount of furniture, not a piece more; yet there was a vast difference between them, and they had not the same aspect at all: Sans-Cravate's quarters were as dirty and disordered as the flower girl's were clean and neat. Having procured a light, the messenger said to his sister, who was looking sadly about: "_Dame!_ this is pretty bad, eh? you don't find any nice furniture here, like what your seducer gave you. But you're in your brother's room, and you can give your address without blushing." "Mon Dieu! dear brother," replied the girl, seizing the messenger's hand, "you are mistaken if you think that I regret the luxurious life I have been leading. What do I care whether my furniture is walnut or mahogany? I never placed any value on that. Ah! the most beautiful apartment is the one to which one brings a joyful heart!" "You are right, Liline. When the heart is satisfied, everything seems beautiful! But, still, it didn't use to be so bad here--because it was neat and clean and well dusted; there was a person who undertook to take care of my room, but--that person don't come any more, and since then I haven't had the heart to look after it--so it ain't surprising that it looks the way it does!" "Well! I'll take that person's place, my dear, and you will see that I too know something about keeping house."