"Baudoin and his wife are not unkind; they dispute together, and fight sometimes, but they haven't bad hearts; they won't refuse me. Besides, it is only a loan, I will return it all."

But Georget forgot that he had left the concierge and his wife engaged in an occupation which was likely to plunge them into a profound slumber ere long. In fact, after sucking and lapping brandy for some time, the husband and wife had felt such an intense longing to sleep, that they had hardly strength enough to reach their bed; and as the sleep caused by intoxication is never light, Monsieur and Madame Baudoin did not hear the knocking at their door; one might have fired a cannon under their noses, and they would simply have said: "G.o.d bless you!"

Weary of knocking to no purpose, Georget walked away from the lodge, murmuring:

"Those concierges are regular beer kegs; I shall never succeed in waking them, and I might as well give it up. Let me see, where can I apply? on the first floor? The whole floor is occupied by a family of English people, who hardly understand what you say to them and who don't look very pleasant; I should not be well received there, they would not be able to understand what I said. On the second floor is a very pretty, very stylish lady, who receives fine gentlemen, but who refuses to open her door when she has company; her maid told me so the other day,--those are her orders. On the third,--ah! that is the gentleman that they call the _Bear_ in the house, because he never talks with anybody, never receives any visitors, and hardly answers when you speak to him. Much use there would be in trying to borrow sugar and charcoal of that man!

and still, if I thought that his black man would open the door;--but no, Pongo sleeps so sound that he never hears his master come home. So it would be the gentleman himself who would open the door, and he would shut it in my face without answering me. I don't even dare to try!--On the fourth, on one side is an old woman, so timid that she will never open her door after dusk; on the other, a student; but he has gone into the country. And at the top, opposite us, no one; the room is to let.

Mon Dieu! whom shall I apply to then, if among all these people I can see no hope of help for my poor mother, who has a high fever and no cooling draft to lessen her suffering? Ah! Chicotin was quite right to say that I am a fool to be in love, that I am too young. Mamzelle Violette makes me forget my mother, my duty, my work. To think that I have done nothing to-day! that I came home without a sou when I knew that my mother was sick! Oh, I am a miserable, heartless villain! I shall never forgive myself!"

As he said this, Georget went slowly upstairs, stopping frequently because he was weeping; and he had stopped again, and rested his head against the wall, to sob at his ease, when a door opened within two steps of him.

He was then on the landing of the third floor, and it was Monsieur Malberg who stood before him. When he saw the young messenger, who still had the look of a mere boy, beating his head against the wall, and giving free vent to his sobs, the gentleman who was called the Bear, and who in fact had a rather stern expression and a rather rough voice, walked toward Georget and asked:

"What are you doing here?"

"Well! monsieur, you see, I am crying, I am unhappy."

"And why are you crying?"

"Because my mother is sick, and because she has nothing that might help her; because I didn't work to-day, and came home to the house without a sou; because I am a heartless wretch, and I deserve to be beaten!"

"Well, do you think that if you beat your head against the wall that that will help your mother?"

"Oh! no, monsieur! but when a fellow doesn't know which way to turn! I went down and knocked at the concierge's door; I wanted to borrow a little sugar and some charcoal of them; but they didn't answer; I suppose they sleep too sound!"

"So you live in the house, do you?"

"Yes, monsieur, at the top, under the eaves; I live there with my mother, who is the widow of my father, Pierre Brunoy, who was a soldier, a non-commissioned officer, who left the service on account of a wound.

Oh! he was a fine man, was my father! He was a draughts-man, he had lots of talent, and he used to make designs for ladies who embroider; we were happy then; but he died. My mother undertook to keep a little smallwares shop, to earn enough to educate me; but she didn't succeed, for no one paid her. Then, as she works very well on linen, she began to work for people, and I, knowing that I ought to help mother, whose health isn't very good, and who has weak eyes, I said to myself: 'I will be a messenger, for I could never find a place, although I can read and write and figure; or else I should have to work without pay for a long while and I must earn money right away to help mother.'--So I started in as a messenger; for there isn't any foolish trade, so I was told;--and--that's all, monsieur."

The gentleman of the third floor listened attentively to Georget, and when he had finished, said to him:

"Come with me."

"Where, monsieur?"

"Into my room, of course."

"What for, monsieur?"

"You will see; come."

The youth placed his tallow-dip on the floor, and followed the gentleman; his heart was still heavy, for he didn't understand how the person who occupied the handsome apartment on the third floor could need his services so late. Monsieur Malberg pa.s.sed through a reception room very carefully polished, and into a beautiful dining-room. There he stopped, opened a large sideboard, took out a loaf of sugar, which was hardly touched, and placed it in Georget's hand, saying:

"Take this!"

The poor boy looked at him with an almost dazed expression, and murmured:

"What is this, monsieur?"

"Don't you see that it is sugar?"

"Sugar, oh, yes! but this great loaf,--who's all this for?"

"For your mother, of course! Didn't you tell me that she hadn't any and that she was sick?"

"Oh! is it possible, monsieur, that you are so kind as--but this is too much, monsieur, too much."

"Hush, and come with me."

This time Monsieur Malberg went into his kitchen, where Georget followed him, holding the loaf of sugar in his arms. The gentleman pointed to a large box without a cover, which stood under the stove, saying:

"Take that box; there's charcoal in it."

"Oh! how kind you are, monsieur! How can I thank you for----"

"It isn't worth while, I don't like thanks; take this box, I say."

"Yes, monsieur, but be sure--I will return all this; pray believe me.

Oh! I will work to pay my debt."

"Very well, very well! By the way, wait; I have some linden leaves here, and some mallow; perhaps they will be good for your mother, and you haven't any in your room, I suppose?"

"No, I think not, monsieur."

"Well, I'll give you some then; come."

Monsieur Malberg returned to his dining-room. Georget still followed him, holding under one arm the loaf of sugar, and under the other the box filled with charcoal. The gentleman opened the drawer of a small piece of furniture, took out several paper bags, looked to see what they contained, put two of them aside, and was about to give them to Georget, when he stopped as if a sudden thought had struck him, and left the dining-room, saying:

"I will return in a moment; what I want isn't there; wait here."

The young messenger was careful not to stir; he was so pleased that he wondered whether he was not the play-thing of a dream; but he for whom he was waiting soon returned, bringing several small packages of herbs, saying:

"Here are some things which may be good for your mother,--linden, orange leaves, mallow and violet; take them all, or rather let me put them in your pocket, for you have no hand free."

"Oh, monsieur! excuse me for the trouble I put you to. Mon Dieu! you are too kind! I will pay you for this, monsieur; for we are not beggars, we don't ask alms, and I should be sorry for you to have that idea of us."

"Very good! Your mother is sick and may need you; don't leave her alone any longer."

"Yes, monsieur, you are right; my poor mother, she will be so happy, so--so--Thanks, monsieur, oh, thanks a thousand times! Remember that I am always here day and night, at your service."

"I will remember; but go."

And the gentleman pushed Georget before him, so that he soon found himself on the landing once more. The door of the apartment closed, and he reascended the staircase as quickly as he could, with his box of charcoal, his loaf of sugar, and his tallow-dip still lighted.

At last he reached his room; this time he was not afraid of making a noise when he went in; he was too happy not to wish to tell his mother about it; but she was not asleep, and she gazed in amazement at her son when he danced into the room, and placed the loaf of sugar on her bed, crying:

"There, mother; you shall not drink plain cold water any more! Here is sugar, here is charcoal, and in my pocket I have half a dozen herbs in leaves. Ah! what luck! you will be cured right away! I can nurse you nicely now."