“Do sing!” she exclaimed.  “You must; I will have it; I have paid you.”  And then, still smiling, he picked up the napoleon and threw it back onto the terrace, and then he said proudly, though in a very gentle voice:  “I do not ask for charity, little lady; but if it gives you pleasure, I will sing you the whole song, the whole of it, as often as you please.”  And he began the song again, in his tremulous voice, which was more tremulous than it had been before, as if he were much touched.

Sonia was overcome, and without knowing was moved into tears; delighted because the man had spoken to her so familiarly, and rather ashamed at having treated him as a beggar; and now her whole being was carried away by the slow rhythm of the melody, which related an old love story, and when he had done he again looked at her with a smile, and as she was crying, he said to her:  “I dare say you have a beautiful horse, or a little dog that you are very fond of, which is ill.  Take me to it, and I will cure it:  I understand it thoroughly.  I will do it gratis, because you are so pretty.”

She could not help laughing.  “You must not laugh,” he said.  “What are you laughing at?  Because I am poor?  But I am not, for I had work yesterday, and again to-day.  I have a bag full.  See, look here!” And from his belt he drew a leather purse in which coppers rattled.  He poured them out into the palm of his hand, and said merrily:  “You see, little one, I have a purse.  Forty-seven sous; forty-seven!” “So you will not take my napoleon?” Sonia said.  “Certainly not,” he replied.  “I do not want it; and then, I tell you again, I will not accept alms.  So you do not know me?” “No, I do not.”  “Very well, ask anyone in the neighborhood.  Everybody will tell you that the Marquis does not live on charity.”

The Marquis!  At that name she suddenly remembered that two years ago she had heard his story.  It was at the time that she bought the property, and the vendor had mentioned the Marquis as one of the curiosities of the soil.  He was said to be half silly, at any rate an original, almost in his dotage, living by any lucky bits that he could make as horse-coper and veterinary.  The peasants gave him a little work, as they feared that he might throw spells over anyone who refused to employ him.  They also respected him on account of his former wealth and of his title, for he had been rich, very rich, and they said that he really was a marquis, and it was said that he had ruined himself in Paris by speculating.  The reason, of course, was women!

At that moment the dinner bell began to ring, and a wild idea entered Sonia’s head.  She ran to the little door that opened onto the terrace, overtook the musician, and with a ceremonious bow she said to him:  “Will you give me the pleasure and the honor of dining with me, Marquis?”

The old man left off smiling and grew serious; he put his hand to his forehead, as if to bring old recollections back, and then with a very formal, old-fashioned bow, he said:  “With pleasure, my dear.”  And letting his wallet drop, he offered Sonia his arm.