"My God! my God!" murmured Geneviève, "take pity upon me!"
"After all, my dear," continued Dixmer, "what serves to console me most is that you are so comfortably lodged here, and that you do not appear to have suffered much from the proscription. As for myself, since the burning of our house, and the ruin of our fortune, I have had my share of wandering adventures, sometimes living in caves, sometimes in boats, and sometimes even in the common sewers which empty into the Seine."
"Sir!" said Geneviève.
"You have there some beautiful fruit; as for me, I have often gone without any dessert, not having had any dinner."
Geneviève, sobbing bitterly, supported her head between her hands.
"Not," continued Dixmer, "that I was destitute of money. I have, thank God! generally carried with me thirty thousand francs in gold, which at this time is worth five hundred thousand francs; but how should a 'collier,' a 'fisherman,' or a 'rag merchant' draw louis from his pocket to purchase a morsel of cheese or a sausage. Eh! my God! yes, Madame, I have successively adopted these three costumes. To-day, the better to disguise myself, I am dressed as a patriot of the patriots; I lisp, and I swear. An outlaw cannot conceal himself so easily in Paris as a young and pretty woman, and I have not the happiness of knowing an ardent young female Republican who could hide me from every eye."
"Sir! sir!" cried Geneviève, "have mercy upon me! you see that I am dying."
"Anxiety; I can understand you have had much anxiety about me; but console yourself, you see me now. I have returned, and we shall part no more, Madame."
"Oh, you will kill me!" cried Geneviève.
Dixmer regarded her with a frightful smile.