And Georget ran all about the room, fumbling over all the furniture, opening all the closets, looking in every corner, but he found nothing. Thereupon a bright light broke upon his mind. He stopped in the middle of the room, threw his cap on the floor, and cried in a tone of deep distress: “Ah! I understand everything now! You didn’t make yourself any drink, because you had no coal nor charcoal! You don’t want any sugar, because you haven’t a single particle of it here! Yes, yes, that is it! You are out of everything! You haven’t any money either, I am sure! and I, instead of trying to earn some, so that you might have what you need, why, I do nothing at all! I pass my day loafing, and at night I go to the theatre with Patatras, who absolutely insisted on treating me. I go about enjoying myself when my mother is sick, and I come home without a sou, without a single piece of money; and I haven’t anything to buy her what might cure her! Ah! I am a wicked son, a good-for-nothing! Forgive me, mother, forgive me; I won’t do so any more! I will work, I swear to you that I will work now!” And the young fellow fell on his knees beside his mother’s bed; and the poor mother forgot her suffering, and tried only to comfort her son. “What are you talking about, Georget? You, a good-for-nothing! Why, you don’t mean that, my boy! Have I ever complained of your conduct?” “Oh! I know very well that you never complain; you are too good!” “You have been amusing yourself a little to-day; well, my boy, there’s no harm in that; you must enjoy yourself while you’re young. Your friend Chicotin took you to the theatre; the theatre is a decent amusement; it is much better than going to the wine shop; you don’t make evil acquaintances there, or destroy your health with unhealthy stuff that they give you for wine. You haven’t earned anything to-day--that is too bad, but to-morrow you will work, and you will be happier!” “To-morrow! to-morrow! but you have had nothing to drink this evening; you haven’t any sugar; and what will you take to quench your thirst to-night? cold water, I suppose?” “I am going to try to sleep; when one is asleep, one doesn’t need to drink.” “But when you wake in the morning, what shall I give you? for you have no money here, nothing at all; isn’t that so, mother?” “Dear me, yes, my dear; for unfortunately I haven’t been able to work for a week; my sight has been all blurred!” “Oh! you work too much, when you ought to rest.” “Why so, Georget? I am not old enough yet to give up work, I am only fifty-four! If a body was good for nothing at that age, it would be a great pity!” “I know that you’re not old, but still your health isn’t very good, and then you didn’t use to need to work for your living.” “Oh! my dear, we must never say such things as that, and sigh over the past! If one has been happy, so much the better; if one is so no longer, so much the worse; regrets don’t help and only make our position worse!”