Georget left Monsieur and Madame Baudoin fighting over the remains of the brandy with sponge and tongue, and lighted one of the small, thin candles which are rolled up like small rockets and which are sold for one or two sous at the grocer's. Then running quickly up six flights of stairs, he reached a small door in which the key had been left; poor people are not suspicious, especially as they have nothing which is worth the trouble of stealing.

The young messenger walked through a small room, which received no light except through a little round window, in which room was a cot bed supplied with a very thin mattress and with an old window curtain which served as bedclothes. This was Georget's bedroom; but he did not stop there. Opening the door at the end of the room, and trying to make no noise, he entered another much larger one, where there was a little window. This room, although the walls sloped, was large enough to contain a bed surrounded by white curtains, an old mahogany bureau, a white wood table, a small sideboard, several chairs, and on the mantel a tiny mirror surrounded by a branch of consecrated boxwood. All this was more than modest, but it was neat and clean; it indicated not dest.i.tution, but poverty.

Georget was walking very softly, concealing his light with his right hand, when he heard a feeble voice from the bed:

"Is that you, Georget?"

"Yes, mother, it's I. So you're not asleep?"

"No, I haven't been able to go to sleep, I don't know why."

"It must be because you are sicker; and you have not been well for several days, although you didn't admit it to me."

"It's nothing, just the lumbago, it will soon be gone. If you would just give me something to drink, my dear, for I am very thirsty."

"Yes, mother, in a minute. Wait until I light your candle and put out this tallow thing of mine which smells worse than thirty-six lamps."

After lighting a bit of candle stuck in a bottle, Georget approached his mother's bed.

"Come, now you must tell me where your medicine is. But gracious heaven, how red your face is, mother! and black circles round your eyes! Are you worse?"

"Why, no, it is the heat of the bed that does that."

"Give me your hand, and let me feel your pulse. Oh! how hot your hand is! You are feverish, and very feverish too, I am sure."

"Nonsense, as if you knew anything about it."

"Oh! yes I do; you must have pain somewhere."

"No, I am not in pain."

"The first thing in the morning I'll fetch a doctor."

"I don't want you to; what's the use of a doctor, just because one has a little fever; it will go away all right without him!"

"Where is your drink?"

"I thought I wouldn't make any; I prefer water, I like it better."

"Water, when one is feverish! Why, you didn't do right! If I did such a thing, you'd scold me and say that I acted like a child, and you would be right. However, tell me where the sugar is; where do you keep the sugar, mother?"

"Sugar! I don't want any; it nauseates me; I prefer clear water."

"Water without sugar, when one is as burning hot as you are! I never heard of such a thing! You can't mean it! Do you want to kill yourself?

I am going to give you some sweetened water, but I must heat it; it's better so."

"Oh, no! no!"

"I say yes; I will take care of you better than you do yourself. Come, where is the sugar? where is the coal?"

And Georget ran all about the room, fumbling over all the furniture, opening all the closets, looking in every corner, but he found nothing.

Thereupon a bright light broke upon his mind. He stopped in the middle of the room, threw his cap on the floor, and cried in a tone of deep distress:

"Ah! I understand everything now! You didn't make yourself any drink, because you had no coal nor charcoal! You don't want any sugar, because you haven't a single particle of it here! Yes, yes, that is it! You are out of everything! You haven't any money either, I am sure! and I, instead of trying to earn some, so that you might have what you need, why, I do nothing at all! I pa.s.s my day loafing, and at night I go to the theatre with Patatras, who absolutely insisted on treating me. I go about enjoying myself when my mother is sick, and I come home without a sou, without a single piece of money; and I haven't anything to buy her what might cure her! Ah! I am a wicked son, a good-for-nothing! Forgive me, mother, forgive me; I won't do so any more! I will work, I swear to you that I will work now!"

And the young fellow fell on his knees beside his mother's bed; and the poor mother forgot her suffering, and tried only to comfort her son.

"What are you talking about, Georget? You, a good-for-nothing! Why, you don't mean that, my boy! Have I ever complained of your conduct?"

"Oh! I know very well that you never complain; you are too good!"

"You have been amusing yourself a little to-day; well, my boy, there's no harm in that; you must enjoy yourself while you're young. Your friend Chicotin took you to the theatre; the theatre is a decent amus.e.m.e.nt; it is much better than going to the wine shop; you don't make evil acquaintances there, or destroy your health with unhealthy stuff that they give you for wine. You haven't earned anything to-day--that is too bad, but to-morrow you will work, and you will be happier!"

"To-morrow! to-morrow! but you have had nothing to drink this evening; you haven't any sugar; and what will you take to quench your thirst to-night? cold water, I suppose?"

"I am going to try to sleep; when one is asleep, one doesn't need to drink."

"But when you wake in the morning, what shall I give you? for you have no money here, nothing at all; isn't that so, mother?"

"Dear me, yes, my dear; for unfortunately I haven't been able to work for a week; my sight has been all blurred!"

"Oh! you work too much, when you ought to rest."

"Why so, Georget? I am not old enough yet to give up work, I am only fifty-four! If a body was good for nothing at that age, it would be a great pity!"

"I know that you're not old, but still your health isn't very good, and then you didn't use to need to work for your living."

"Oh! my dear, we must never say such things as that, and sigh over the past! If one has been happy, so much the better; if one is so no longer, so much the worse; regrets don't help and only make our position worse!"

"All this doesn't give you any nice, hot, sweet drink, and that is what you must have!"

"Don't despair, we are not altogether without resources. You know that I have--your father's watch; and if it is absolutely necessary, why----"

"What's that you say! my father's watch, which you think so much of! the only thing of his that you have! part with that? No, I won't have it.

Wait--suppose I should go and stand in front of some theatre?"

"What an idea! They are all over, all closed at this time of night."

"Never mind; in front of a restaurant, I may still get something to do."

"I don't want you to go out; it's too late."

"Well then, in the house; pardi! sugar and coal--people lend each other such things as that. Don't be impatient, mother, I will come right back."

"No, Georget, I don't want you to ask the neighbors; don't, I beg you!"

But Georget was not listening to his mother; he had already relighted his tallow-dip and hurried from the room. When he reached the landing, the young man stopped, for he was uncertain to whom he should apply for the loan which he wished to obtain; but he did not hesitate long. He ran down the stairs three or four at a time, and did not stop until he reached the ground floor and knocked at the concierge's lodge, saying to himself: