"Yes, isn't it? for, as I say, I never refuse myself anything. Now, I consider my chamber as above my means; in fact, too handsome for one like me; then I have two birds; always, at least, two pots of flowers on my mantelpiece, without reckoning those on the window-ledges; and yet, as I told you, I had actually got three francs and a half in my money-box, towards the ornaments I hoped some day to be able to buy for my mantelpiece." "And what became of this store?" "Oh, why, lately, when I saw the poor Morels so very, very wretched, I said to myself, 'What is the use of hoarding up these stupid pieces of money, and letting them lie idle in a money-box, when good and honest people are actually starving for want of them?' So I took out the three francs, and lent them to Morel. When I say lent, I mean I told him I only lent them, to spare his feelings; but, of course, I never meant to have them back again." "Yes, but my dear neighbour, you cannot refuse to let them repay you, now they are so differently situated." "Why, no; I think if Morel were to offer them to me now, I should not refuse them; it will, at any rate, enable me to begin my store for buying the chimney ornaments I do so long to possess. You would scarcely believe how silly I am; but I almost dream of a beautiful clock, such a one as I showed you just now, and two lovely vases, one on each side." "But, then, you should think a little of the future." "What future?" "Suppose you were to be ill, for instance." "Me ill? Oh, the idea!" And the fresh, hearty laugh of Rigolette resounded through the street. "Well, why should you not be?" "Do I look like a person likely to be sick?" "Certainly I never saw a more bright or blooming countenance." "Well, then, what could possibly have put it into your head to talk such nonsense as to suppose I could ever be ill?" "Nay, but--" "Why, I am only eighteen years of age, and, considering the sort of life I lead, there is no chance of such a thing. I rise at five o'clock, winter or summer; I am never up after ten, or, at latest, eleven; I eat sufficient to satisfy my appetite, which certainly is not a very great one; I do not suffer from exposure to cold; I work all day, singing as merrily as a lark; and at night I sleep like a dormouse. My heart is free, light, and happy. My employers are so well satisfied with what I do for them, that I am quite sure not to want for work; so what is there for me to be ill about? It really is too amusing to hear you try to talk sense, and only utter nonsense! Me ill!" And, at the very absurdity of the idea, Rigolette again burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, so loud and prolonged that a stout gentleman who was walking before her, carrying a dog under his arm, turned around quite angrily, believing all this mirth was excited by his presence. Resuming her composure, Rigolette slightly curtseyed to the stout individual, and pointing to the animal under his arm, said: