"You appear to have willingness and courage; but do you know what it will cost you to live in town?—at least three times what it did in the country."
"Well, suppose I have shelter and for rest after toil, I can shift on six cents a day."
"That is the right talk. I like this kind of man," said the plant collector. "Come with me to Paris and I will find you an independent profession by which you may live."
"Oh, my friend," exclaimed Gilbert, intoxicated with delight. "I accept your offer and I am grateful. But what will I have to do in your company?"
"Nothing but toil. But you will mete out the amount of your work. You will exercise your right of youth, freedom, happiness and even of idleness after you earn the right to be at leisure," added the unnamed benefactor, smiling as though in spite of his will.
Then, raising his eyes to heaven, he ejaculated: "Oh, youth, vigor and liberty!" with an inexpressibly poetical melancholy spreading over his fine, pure lineaments.
"Now, lead me to the spot where the maidenhair is to be found," he said.
Gilbert stepped out before the old gentleman and the pair disappeared in the underwood.