"Because I cannot go to him to tell him I am sorry he has sprained himself."
"You cannot say you are sorry that he has sprained himself?"
"Why, no! for I am glad he did. It would be a lie, mother, and you know you have often forbidden me to tell lies!... One day, when I was very little, you whipped me for lying."
"Did you ever see such a rogue!" said my mother.
"Nonsense, the child does not wish to lie," Madame Darcourt remarked laughingly.
"But the prosecution—and the fifty francs!" exclaimed my mother.
"Bah! what are fifty francs?" said Madame Darcourt.
"Oh, really! do you think then that fifty francs are a mere trifle to us?" my mother answered sadly.
The tone with which she said these words touched me to the heart, for it showed that the loss of the fifty francs was much, indeed too much, for my mother to bear.
I was just going to give in, and to say, "Very well, I will go to the man and tell him I am sorry he has sprained himself. I will say everything you want me to say!" ... when, unfortunately for my good intentions, Madame Darcourt, who had noticed the intonation in my mother's voice, even as I had, turned to me:—