"Well, what?" "That I am a convict, who has served his time,--that I have been at the Bagne," said Chourineur, in a low voice. "Indeed!" replied Murphy. "But I never did wrong to any one," exclaimed the Chourineur; "and I would sooner die of hunger than rob; but I have done worse than rob," he added, bending his head down; "I have killed my fellow creature in a passion. But that is not all," he continued, after a moment's pause. "I will tell everything to my employer; I would rather be refused at first than detected afterwards. You know him, and if you think he would refuse me, why, spare me the refusal, and I will go as I came." "Come along with me," said Murphy. The Chourineur followed Murphy up the staircase; a door opened, and they were both in the presence of Rodolph. "My good Murphy," said he, "leave us together awhile." CHAPTER XIX. RECOMPENSE. "Vive la Charte!" cried the Chourineur. "How precious glad I am to see you again, M. Rodolph--or, rather, my lord!" "Good day, my excellent friend. I am equally glad to see you." "Oh, what a joker M. Murphy is! He told me you had gone away. But stay, my lord--" "Call me M. Rodolph; I like that best." "Well, then, M. Rodolph, I have to ask your pardon for not having been to see you after the night with the Schoolmaster. I see now that I was guilty of a great rudeness; but I do not suppose that you had any desire to see me?" "I forgive you," said Rodolph, smiling; and then added, "Murphy has shown you all over the house?" "Yes, M. Rodolph; and a fine house and fine shop it is,--all so neat and so comfortable! Talking of comfortable, I am the man that will be so, M. Rodolph! M. Murphy is going to put me in the way of earning four francs a day,--yes, four francs a day!" "I have something better than that to propose to you, my good fellow." "Better! It's unpolite to contradict you, but I think that would be difficult. Four francs a day!" "I tell you I have something better: for this house, all that it contains, the shop, and a thousand crowns which are in this pocketbook,--all are yours." The Chourineur smiled with a stupid air, flattened his long-napped hat between his knees, and squeezed it convulsively, evidently not understanding what Rodolph said to him, although his language was plain enough. Rodolph, with much kindness, said to him: "I can imagine your surprise; but I again repeat, this house and this money are yours,--they are your property." The Chourineur became purple, passed his horny hand over his brow, which was bathed with perspiration, and stammered out, in a faltering voice: "What!--eh!--that is--indeed--my property!" "Yes, your property; for I bestow it all upon you. Do you understand? I give it to you."