“Nor I either, sister.  We have always tried not to displease our mother, who sees and hears us.”

“We love those who love us; we are resigned to whatever may happen to us.  So, who can reproach us with any harm?”

“No one.  But, perhaps, we may do some without meaning it.”

“We?”

“Yes, and therefore I thought:  We may perhaps be the cause of her uneasiness.”

“How so?”

“Listen, sister! yesterday Madame Baudoin tried to work at those sacks of coarse cloth there on the table.”

“Yes; but in about an half-hour, she told us sorrowfully, that she could not go on, because her eyes failed her, and she could not see clearly.”

“So that she is not able to earn her living.”

“No—­but her son, M. Agricola, works for her.  He looks so good, so gay, so frank, and so happy to devote himself for his mother.  Oh, indeed! he is the worthy brother of our angel Gabriel!”

“You will see my reason for speaking of this.  Our good old Dagobert told us, that, when we arrived here, he had only a few pieces of money left.”

“That is true.”

“Now both he and his wife are unable to earn their living; what can a poor old soldier like him do?”

“You are right; he only knows how to love us, and take care of us, like his children.”

“It must then be M. Agricola who will have to support his father; for Gabriel is a poor priest, who possesses nothing, and can render no assistance to those who have brought him up.  So M. Agricola will have to support the whole family by himself.”

“Doubtless—­he owes it to father and mother—­it is his duty, and he will do it with a good will.”

“Yes, sister—­but he owes us nothing.”

“What do you say, Blanche?”

“He is obliged to work for us also, as we possess nothing in the world.”

“I had not thought of that.  True.”

“It is all very well, sister, for our father to be Duke and Marshal of France, as Dagobert tells us, it is all very well for us to hope great things from this medal, but as long as father is not here, and our hopes are not realized, we shall be merely poor orphans, obliged to remain a burden to this honest family, to whom we already owe so much, and who find it so hard to live, that—­”

“Why do you pause, sister?”

“What I am about to say would make other people laugh; but you will understand it.  Yesterday, when Dagobert’s wife saw poor Spoil-sport at his dinner, she said, sorrowfully:  ’Alas! he eats as much as a man!’—­so that I could almost have cried to hear her.  They must be very poor, and yet we have come to increase their poverty.”

The sisters looked sadly at each other, while Spoil-sport pretended not to know they were talking of his voracity.

“Sister, I understand,” said Rose, after a moment’s silence.  “Well, we must not be at the charge of any one.  We are young, and have courage.  Till our fate is decided, let us fancy ourselves daughters of workmen.  After all, is not our grandfather a workman?  Let us find some employment, and earn our own living.  It must be so proud and happy to earn one’s living!”