“Accept things from me, my dear Monsieur Bernard, without reluctance; and when your daughter is safe, and you are once more at ease, we will settle all.  Meantime, let me act for you.  I have been to see that Polish doctor; unfortunately he is absent; he will not be back for two days.”

At this moment a voice which seemed to Godefroid to have, and really had, a fresh, melodious ring, cried out, “Papa, papa!” on two expressive notes.

While speaking to the old man, Godefroid had noticed that the jambs of a door leading to another room were painted in a delicate manner, altogether different from that of the rest of the lodging.  His curiosity, already so keenly excited, was now roused to the highest pitch.  He was conscious that his mission of benevolence was becoming nothing more than a pretext; what he really wanted was to see that sick woman.  He refused to believe for an instant that a creature endowed with such a voice could be an object of repulsion.

“You do, indeed, take too much trouble, papa!” said the voice.  “Why not have more servants?—­and at your age, too!  Good God!”

“But you know, my dear Vanda, that the boy and I cannot bear that any one should wait upon you but ourselves!”

Those sentences, which Godefroid heard through the door, or rather divined, for a heavy portiere on the inside smothered the sounds, gave him an inkling of the truth.  The sick woman, surrounded by luxury, was evidently kept in ignorance of the real situation of her father and son.  The violet silk dressing-gown of Monsieur Bernard, the flowers, his remarks to Cartier, had already roused some suspicion of this in Godefroid’s mind.  The young man stood still where he was, bewildered by this prodigy of paternal love.  The contrast, such as he imagined it, between the invalid’s room and the rest of that squalid place, —­yes, it was bewildering!

XIV

HOW THE POOR AND HELPLESS ARE PREYED UPON

Through the door of a third chamber, which the old man had left open, Godefroid beheld two cots of painted wood, like those of the cheapest boarding-schools, each with a straw bed and a thin mattress, on which there was but one blanket.  A small iron stove like those that porters cook by, near which lay a few squares of peat, would alone have shown the poverty of the household without the help of other details.

Advancing a step or two, Godefroid saw utensils such as the poorest persons use,—­earthenware jugs, and pans in which potatoes floated in dirty water.  Two tables of blackened wood, covered with books and papers, stood before the windows that looked out upon the rue Notre-Dame des Champs, and indicated the nocturnal occupations of father and son.  On each of the tables was a flat iron candlestick, such as are used by the very poor, and in them Godefroid noticed tallow-candles of the kind that are sold at eight to the pound.

On a third table glittered two forks and spoons and another little spoon of silver-gilt, together with plates, bowls, and cups of Sevres china, and a silver-gilt knife and fork in an open case, all evidently for the service of the sick woman.