“I know it was wrong,” he continued; “but you would not have acted differently in my place, my dear sir, I am sure.  Just think!  My room belonged to M. Maxime, for I had his money in my pocket.  I asked him politely where he lived, and if there was any furniture to come.  I caught it nicely.  He laughed me in the face, and did not even let me finish my question.  ‘Do I look,’ he said, ’like a man who lives in a place like this?’ And when he saw I was puzzled, he went on to tell me that he took the room for a young person from the country, in whom he took an interest, and that the contract and the receipts for rent must all be made out in the name of Miss Henrietta.  That was clear enough, wasn’t it?  Still it was my duty to know who Miss Henrietta was; so I asked him civilly.  But he got angry, and told me that was none of my business, and that some furniture would be sent presently.”

He stopped, waiting for his host to express his approbation by a word or a sign; but, as nothing came, he went on,—­

“In fine, I did not dare to insist, and all was done as he wanted it done.  That very day a dealer in second-hand furniture brought the pieces you have seen up stairs; and the day after, about eleven o’clock, Miss Henrietta herself appeared.  She had not much baggage, I tell you; she brought every thing she owned in a little carpet-bag in her hand.”

The old merchant was stooping over the fire as if his whole attention was given to the teakettle, in which the water was beginning to boil.

“It seems to me, my good friend,” he said, “that you did not act very wisely.  Still, if that is really all, I don’t think they are likely to trouble you.”

“What else could there be?”

“How do I know?  But if that young damsel had been carried off by M. Maxime, if you were lending a hand in an elopement, I think you would be in a bad box.  The law is pretty strict about it, in the case of a minor.”

The concierge protested with a solemn air.

“I have told you the whole truth,” he declared.

But Papa Ravinet did not by any means seem so sure of that.

“That is your lookout,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.  “Still, you may be sure they will ask you how it could happen that one of your tenants should fall into such a state of abject poverty without your giving notice to anybody.”

“Why, in the first place, I do not wait upon my lodgers.  They are free to do what they choose in their rooms.”

“Quite right, Master Chevassat! quite right!  So you did not know that M. Maxime no longer came to see Miss Henrietta?”

“He still came to see her.”

In the most natural manner in the world, Papa Ravinet raised his arms to heaven, and exclaimed as if horror-struck,—­

“What! is it possible?  That handsome young man knew how the poor girl suffered? he knew that she was dying of hunger?”

Master Chevassat became more and more troubled.  He began to see what the old merchant meant by his questions, and how unsatisfactory his answers were.