"Yes, monseigneur, they bless you; for, although you say you did nothing in this but appoint Germain, and that an unknown did this great benefit, we must always, suppose it was you who founded it, as it appears to us the most natural idea. There is, besides, a most famous trumpet to repeat that it is you who are the real benefactor. This trumpet is Madame Pipelet, who repeats to every one that it could be no one but her king of lodgers (excuse her, M. Rodolph, but she always calls you so) who established such a charitable institution, and her old darling Alfred is of the same opinion; he is so proud and contented with his post as porter to the bank that he says all the tricks of M. Cabrion would not have the slightest effect on him now. "Germain has read in the newspapers that Martial, a colonist of Algeria, has been mentioned with great praise for the courage he had shown in repulsing, at the head of the settlers, an attack of plundering Arabs, and that his wife, as intrepid as himself, had been slightly wounded by his side, where she handled her musket like a real grenadier; since this time, says the newspaper, she has been called Madame Carabine. "Excuse this long letter, monseigneur, but I think you will not be displeased to hear from us news of all those whose benefactor you have been. I write to you from the farm at Bouqueval, where we have been since the spring with our good mother. Germain leaves us in the morning for his business, and returns in the evening. In the autumn we shall return to Paris. "It is so strange, M. Rodolph, that I, who could never endure the country, am now so fond of it; I suppose it is because Germain likes it so very much. "As to the farm, M. Rodolph, you who know, no doubt, where the good little Goualeuse is, will perhaps tell her that we very often think of her as one of the dearest and gentlest creatures in the world; and that, for myself, I never think of my own happy condition without saying to myself, since M. Rodolph was also the M. Rodolph of dear Fleur-de-Marie, that, no doubt, she is by his kindness as happy as we are, and that makes one feel still more happy. Ah, how I chatter! What will you say to all this? But you are so good, and then, you know, it is your fault if I go on as long and as merrily as Papa Cretu and Ramonette, who no longer have a chance with me in singing. You will not refuse our request, will you, monseigneur? If you will give a name to our dear little child, it will seem to us that it will bring her good fortune, like a lucky star.