There seemed every prospect of an angry scene, when a slight sound attracted the attention of the disputants, and, turning round, they saw an old man standing upon the threshold of their open door.  He was tall, but stooped a good deal.  He had high, thick brows, and a red nose; a long, thick, grizzly beard covered the rest of his countenance.  He wore a pair of spectacles with colored glasses, which, to a great extent, concealed the expression of his face.  His whole attire indicated extreme poverty.  He wore a greasy coat, much frayed and torn at the pockets, and which had carried away with it marks of all the walls against which it had been rubbed when he had indulged a little too freely in the cheerful glass.  He seemed to belong to that class who consider it a work of supererogation to disrobe before going to bed, and who just turn in on such spot as the fancy of the moment may dictate.  Paul and Rose both recognized the old man from having continually met him when ascending or descending the staircase, and knew that he rented the back attic, and was called Daddy Tantaine.  In an instant the idea flashed across Paul’s mind that the dilapidated state of the partition permitted every word spoken in one attic to be overheard in the other, and this did not tend to soothe his exasperated feelings.

“What do you want here, sir?” asked he angrily.  “And, pray, who gave you permission to enter my room without leave?”

The old man did not seem at all put out by the threatening language of his questioner.  “I should be telling a fib,” answered he calmly, “if I were to tell you that, being in my own room and hearing you quarrelling, I did not hear every word of what you have been saying.”

“Sir!”

“Stop a bit, and don’t be in such a hurry, my young friend.  You seem disposed to quarrel, and, on my faith, I am not surprised; for when there is no corn in the manger, the best tempered horse will bite and kick.”

He uttered these words in the most soothing accents, and appeared utterly unconscious of having committed any breach of etiquette in entering the room.

“Well, sir,” said Paul, a flush of shame passing across his face, “you see now how poverty can drag a man down.  Are you satisfied?”

“Come, come, my young friend,” answered Daddy Tantaine, “you should not get angry; and if I did step in without any notice, it was because, as a neighbor, I find I might venture on such a liberty; for when I heard how embarrassed you were, I said to myself, ’Tantaine, perhaps you can help this pretty pair out of the scrape they have got into.’”

The promise of assistance from a person who had not certainly the outward appearance of a capitalist seemed so ludicrous to Rose that she could not restrain a smile, for she fancied that if their old neighbor was to present them with half his fortune, it might possibly amount to twenty centimes or thereabouts.

Paul had formed a somewhat similar idea, but he was a little touched by this act of friendliness on the part of a man who doubtless knew that money lent under similar circumstances was but seldom returned.