LITMIR.BIZ

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francs a pair; just look at my boots. Now, would not any one say they had been made for me?" said Rigolette, suddenly stopping, and holding up one of her pretty little feet, really very nicely set off by the well-fitting boot she wore.

      "It is, indeed, a charming foot; but you must have some difficulty in getting fitted. However, I suppose, at the Temple, they keep shoes and boots of all sizes, from a woman's to a child's."

      "Ah, neighbour, I begin to find out what a terrible flatterer you are. However, after what I have told you, you must see now that a young girl, who is careful, and has only herself to keep, may manage to live respectably on thirty sous a day; to be sure, the four hundred and fifty francs I brought out of prison with me helped me on famously, for when people saw that I had my own furniture in my apartments, they felt more confidence in entrusting me with work to take home. I was some time, though, before I met with employment. Fortunately for me, I had kept by me as much money as enabled me to live three months without earning anything."

      "Shall I own to you that, under so gay and giddy a manner, I scarcely expected to hear so much sound sense as that uttered by your pretty mouth, my good neighbour?"

      "Ah! but let me tell you that, when one is all alone in the world, and has no wish to be under any obligation, it is quite necessary, as the proverb says, to mind how we build our nest, to take care of it when it is built."

      "And certainly yours is as charming a nest as the most fastidious bird could desire."

      "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:

      "Is your dog so very tired, sir?"

      The fat man grumbled out some indistinct reply, and continued on his way.

      "My dear neighbour," said Rodolph, "are you losing your senses?"

      "It is your fault if I am."

      "How so?"

      "Because you talk such nonsense to me."

      "Do you call my saying that perhaps you might be ill, talking foolishly?"

      And, once more overcome by the irresistible mirth awakened by the absurdity of Rodolph's suggestion, Rigolette again relapsed into long and hearty fits of laughter; while Rodolph, deeply struck by this blind, yet happy reliance upon the future, felt angry with himself for having tried to shake it, though he almost shuddered as he pictured to himself the havoc a single month's illness would make in this peaceful mode of life. Then the implicit reliance entertained by Rigolette on the stability of her employ, and her youthful courage, her sole treasures, struck Rodolph as breathing the very essence of pure and contented innocence; for the confidence expressed by the young dressmaker arose neither from recklessness nor improvidence, but from an instinctive dependence and belief in that divine justice which would never forsake a virtuous and industrious creature, – a simple girl, whose greatest crime was in relying too confidently on the blessed gifts of youth and health, the precious boon of a heavenly benefactor. Do the birds of the air remember, as they flit on gay and agile wing amidst the blue skies of summer, or skim lightly over the sweet-smelling fields of blooming lucerne, that bleak, cold winter must follow so much enjoyment?

      "Then," said Rodolph to the grisette, "it seems you have no wish for anything more than you already possess?"

      "No, really I have not."

      "Positively, nothing you desire?"

      "No, I tell you. Stay, yes, now I recollect, there are those sweet pretty chimney ornaments; but I shall be sure to have them some of these days, though I do not know exactly when; but still, they do so run in my head, that, sooner than be disappointed, I will sit up all night to work."

      "And besides these ornaments?"

      "Oh, nothing more; no, I cannot recollect any one other thing I care for more especially now."

      "Why now, particularly?"

      "Because, yesterday, if you had asked me the same question, I should have replied, there was nothing I wanted more than an agreeable neighbour in your apartments, to give me an opportunity of showing all the little acts of kindness I have been accustomed to perform, and to receive nice little attentions in return."

      "Well, but you know, my dear neighbour, we have already entered into an agreement to be mutually serviceable to each other; you will look after my linen for me, and I shall clean up and polish your chamber for you; and besides attending to my linen, you are to wake me every morning early by tapping against the wainscot."

      "And do you think you have named all I shall expect you to do?"

      "What else can I do?"

      "Oh, bless you, you have not yet come to the end of your services! Why, do you not intend to take me out every Sunday, either to the Boulevards or beyond the barriers? You know that is the only day I can enjoy a little pleasure."

      "To be sure I do; and when summer comes we will go into the country."

      "No, no, I hate the country! I cannot bear to be anywhere but in Paris. Yet I used, once upon a time, to go, out of good nature, with a young friend of mine, who was with me in prison, to visit Meudon and St. Germain. My friend was a very nice, good girl, and because she had such a sweet voice, and was always singing, people used to call her the Goualeuse."

      "And what has become of her?"

      "I

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