"Nothing at all; he would be killed instantly." "Patience, my little neighbor. Corbleu! if only I could get well!--But I hear Chicotin, I believe." The young messenger returned with a sheepish expression, holding the two-franc piece in his hand. "Well, where is the syrup, Chicotin?" asked Roncherolle. "The syrup is at the druggist's, monsieur." "What do you mean by that?" "I mean that it's an outrage! Just fancy that a little bottle no bigger than my wrist costs twelve francs!" "Twelve francs?" "Yes, monsieur, syrup of Poupee twelve francs, no less; it wasn't any use for me to say: 'Put me up forty sous' worth in a little pomade box'; he laughed in my face and told me they didn't sell it at retail; he showed me a bottle, all sealed, with the price on it. Then I said: 'If the gout can only be cured at that price, only rich people can be cured!'--'Only rich people have the gout,' said the clerk. I say, bourgeois, that's nonsense, ain't it? For it seems to me that you're none too well fixed." Violette nudged Chicotin, saying in an undertone: "You ought to have said that the syrup wasn't ready, and I would have gone out and bought it and paid for it without letting Monsieur de Roncherolle know the price." "He would have found it out all the same, mamzelle, for the price is pasted on the bottle; it wouldn't have been possible to deceive him, and how he would have sworn then!" Roncherolle had dropped his head on the pillow, and said nothing more. Chicotin handed him the two-franc piece, saying: "Shall I buy anything else with this, bourgeois?" "You may buy some wood, my boy, and make a fire; but not until evening; for my little neighbor comes to sit with me in the evening, and I don't want her to freeze in my room.--Now leave me, my children; I don't want anything more, and I am going to try to sleep." Violette pressed the invalid's hand and went out, with a feeling of oppression at her heart; Chicotin followed her, muttering: "Poor dear man, not to be able to buy what might cure him; it ain't very gay here; but never mind, I will come back soon and see if he wants something else that don't cost so much." "And you won't spend his two francs, will you, Chicotin? you must get some wood in my room." "Yes, mamzelle, but what shall I do with his money? I can't give it back to him." "Keep it; it will serve to buy something else which may be dearer still; and you mustn't tell him, as you did to-day. To think of his being without a fire, in such cold weather, and when he is suffering so! for to-day I could see on his face the efforts he made to conceal his suffering; why, it makes me want to cry!" "After all, Mamzelle Violette, you mustn't feel so bad for somebody who ain't anything to you." "Oh! he is so wretched, without relations, or friends, sick and poor; and then there are people for whom you feel affection right away; and Georget won't be jealous of him; I feel that I have a sincere affection for him."