"Ended at eight o'clock in the evening! What are you thinking of?--for I had stipulated that I was to be free at eight o'clock so I could utilise the rest of the time. For a year I worked at home in the evening, on tapestry work or on my water-colours, or copying music, but after that a friend of Michel's recommended me to a very aristocratic, but rather misanthropical, blind lady, who, being unable to go into society, preferred to pass her evenings in listening to reading; so, for three years, I acted as reader for her at a salary of eight hundred francs a year. I went to her house at nine o'clock, I read to her awhile, and then we talked and drank tea by turn. This lady lived on the Rue de Tournon, so Michel could call for me about midnight, on his return from his theatre." "From his theatre?" "Yes, from the Odéon." "Good Heavens! has he turned actor?" "You are mad!" cried Florence, laughing heartily. "Nothing of the sort. I told you that we both did anything we could find to do, and Michel was controller at the Odéon, performing his duties there after he had left his desk, where he earned two thousand four hundred francs a year as an entry clerk." "Michel, who was so indolent that he would not pay the slightest attention to his own business affairs, in years gone by!" "And take notice that, after he returned home at night, he used to post books and straighten up people's accounts, thus adding considerably to his earnings in the course of a year. In this fashion, my dear Valentine, and by living with the most rigid economy, going without a fire in winter, waiting on ourselves, and even working on Sunday, we accumulated the amount we needed in four years. Well, was I wrong when I boasted of the wonders indolence could accomplish?" "I can't get over my astonishment. This seems incredible." "Ah, but Valentine, as Michel says, 'A love of idleness is often the real cause of some of the most laborious lives. Why do so many persons, who are neither ambitious nor avaricious, toil with such untiring ardour? In order that they may cease work as soon as possible, is it not?'" "You are right, perhaps. At least, I see now that the love of idleness may impart wonderful energy to one's efforts, at least for a time. But tell me, Florence, why were your rooms and Michel's so close together and yet separated?"