The next day Godefroid, already habituated by his new life to rising early, saw from his window a young man about seventeen years of age, dressed in a blouse, who was coming back, no doubt from the public fountain, bringing a crock full of water in each hand.The face of this lad, who was not aware that he was seen, revealed his feelings, and never had Godefroid observed one so artless and so melancholy.The graces of youth were all repressed by poverty, by study, by great physical fatigue.Monsieur Bernard's grandson was remarkable for a complexion of extreme whiteness, which the contrast with his dark hair seemed to make still whiter.He made three trips; when he returned from the last he saw some men unloading a cord of wood which Godefroid had ordered the night before, for the long-delayed winter of 1838 was beginning to be felt; snow had fallen slightly during the night.
Nepomucene, who had begun his day by going for the wood (on which Madame Vauthier levied a handsome tribute), spoke to the young lad while waiting until the woodman had sawed enough for him to carry upstairs.It was easy to see that the sudden cold was causing anxiety to Monsieur Bernard's grandson, and that the sight of the wood, as well as that of the threatening sky, warned him that they ought to be making their own provision for wintry weather.Suddenly, however, as if reproaching himself for lost time, he seized his crocks and hastily entered the house.It was, in fact, half-past seven o'clock, the hour was just ringing from the belfry of the convent of the Visitation, and he was due at the college of Louis-le-Grand by half-past eight.
As the young lad entered the house, Godefroid went to his door to admit Madame Vauthier who brought her new lodger the wherewithal to make a fire, and he thus became the witness of a scene which took place on the landing.
A neighboring gardener, who had rung several times at Monsieur Bernard's door without making any one hear (for the bell was wrapped in paper), had a rather rough dispute with the young lad who now came up with the water, demanding to be paid for the flowers he had supplied.As the man raised his voice angrily Monsieur Bernard appeared."Auguste," he said to his grandson, "dress yourself, it is time for school."He himself took the two crocks of water, carried them into the first of his rooms, in which were many pots of flowers, and returned to speak to the gardener, carefully closing the door behind him.
Godefroid's door was open, for Nepomucene had begun his trips, and was stacking the wood in the front room.The gardener was silent in presence of Monsieur Bernard, whose tall figure, robed in a violet silk dressing-gown, buttoned to the throat, gave him an imposing air.
"You might ask for what is owing to you without such noise," said Monsieur Bernard.
"Be fair, my dear monsieur," said the gardener."You agreed to pay me every week, and it now three months, ten weeks, since I have had a penny; you owe me a hundred and twenty francs.We let out our plants to rich people who pay us when we ask for the money; but this is the fifth time I have come to you for it.I have my rent to pay and the wages of my men; I am not a bit richer than you.My wife, who supplied you with eggs and milk, will not come here any more; you owe her thirty francs.She does not like to dun you, for she is kind-hearted, that she is! If I listened to her, I couldn't do business at all.And so I, who am not so soft--you understand?"Just then Auguste came out dressed in a shabby little green coat with cloth trousers of the same color, a black cravat, and worn-out boots.
These clothes, though carefully brushed, showed the lowest degree of poverty; they were all too short and too narrow, so that the lad seemed likely to crack them at every motion.The seams were white, the edges curled, the buttonholes torn in spite of many mendings; the whole presenting to the most unobservant eyes the heart-breaking stigmas of honest penury.This livery contrasted sadly with the youth of the lad, who now disappeared munching a crust of stale bread with his strong and handsome teeth.He breakfasted thus on his way to the rue Saint-Jacques, carrying his books and papers under his arm, and wearing a little cap much too small for his head, from which stuck out a mass of magnificent black hair.
In passing before his grandfather the lad had given him rapidly a look of deep distress; for he knew him to be in an almost hopeless difficulty, the consequences of which might be terrible.To leave room for the boy to pass, the gardener had stepped back to the sill of Godefroid's door, and as at that moment Nepomucene arrived with a quantity of wood, the creditor was forced to retreat into the room.
"Monsieur Bernard!" cried the widow Vauthier, "do you think Monsieur Godefroid hired his rooms to have you hold your meetings in them?""Excuse me, madame," said the gardener, "but there was no room on the landing.""I didn't say that for you, Monsieur Cartier," said the widow.
"Remain where you are!" cried Godefroid, addressing the gardener; "and you, my dear neighbor," he added, looking at Monsieur Bernard, who seemed insensible to the cruel insult, "if it is convenient to you to have an explanation with your gardener in my room, come in."The old man, half stupefied with his troubles, cast a look of gratitude on Godefroid.
"As for you, my dear Madame Vauthier," continued Godefroid, "don't be so rough with monsieur, who is in the first place an old man, and one to whom you owe the obligation of my lodging here.""Oh, pooh!" said the widow.
"Besides, if poor people do not help each other, who will help them?
Leave us, Madame Vauthier; I'll blow the fire myself.Have the rest of my wood put in your cellar; I am sure you will take good care of it."Madame Vauthier disappeared, for Godefroid in telling her to take care of his wood had given an opportunity to her greed.
"Come in this way," said Godefroid, offering chairs to both debtor and creditor.
The old man conversed standing, but the gardener sat down.
