"So that, your work in my shop being done, you did not return to my house out of fear that your love might carry you away?" "Yes, monsieur." "And you never mentioned your love to anyone, even to my daughter?" "Never, monsieur." "I knew it. But why did you refuse to place confidence in me, Monsieur George?" "Monsieur," answered the embarrassed young man, "I--did--not dare--" "Why not! Perchance because I am what is called a _bourgeois_--a rich man compared to you, who live from day to day by the wages that you earn?" "Yes, monsieur." After a moment's silence the merchant proceeded: "Permit me, Monsieur George, to put a question to you. You may answer it, if you think proper." "I listen, monsieur." "About fifteen months ago, shortly after your discharge from the army, you expected to marry?" "Yes, monsieur." "A young flower girl, an orphan named Josephine Eloi?" "Yes, monsieur; it is all so." "Will you tell me the reason why the marriage did not take place?" The young man colored; an expression of pain contracted his countenance; he hesitated to answer. Lebrenn watched him attentively. Pained and surprised at George's silence, he could not withhold a bitter and severe cry: "I see--seduction, then abandonment and oblivion. Your embarrassment proclaims it all but too loudly." "You are mistaken, monsieur," George quickly answered. "My embarrassment and emotion are caused by cruel recollections. I shall tell you what happened. I never lie--" "I know you do not, Monsieur George." "Josephine dwelt in the same house with my employer. In that way I became acquainted with her. She was very pretty, and, although illiterate, highly gifted. I knew she was inured to work and poverty. I believed her wise. A bachelor's life weighed upon me. I also thought of my grandfather. A wife would have assisted me in taking better care of him. I proposed marriage to Josephine. She seemed delighted, and she herself named the date of our wedding. They lied to you, monsieur, who spoke of seduction and abandonment!" "I believe you," said Lebrenn, cordially extending his hand to the young man. "I am happy to be able to believe you. But how did your marriage fall through?" "A week before the day for our wedding Josephine disappeared, leaving a letter for me saying that all was broken off. I subsequently learned that, yielding to the evil advice of one of her girl friends, a lost woman, she followed her example. Having lived in misery all her life, enduring grievous privations despite her long hours, twelve and fifteen of work a day, Josephine recoiled before the life that I offered her--a life of toil and poverty like her own." "And like so many others," interjected Lebrenn, "she succumbed to the temptations of a less toilsome life. Oh! Poverty! Poverty!"