"Fifty centimes," rejoined the old man, after a moment of hesitation, "and remember that I charge you for one of the letters only. I alone am responsible for my awkwardness."
"You are very kind, monsieur," said Mariette, touched by what she considered a proof of generosity on his part. "Indeed," she added, as she replaced her slender purse into her pocket, "you have been so good to me that I shall ask you a very great service—"
"Go on, my child."
"If I have more letters to send, it will be almost impossible for me to go to a stranger—"
"I shall always be at your service, my child."
"What I wished to say was, that my godmother is also unable to write or read, and the friend who was my confidante has gone to the country. So if I should receive a letter from M. Louis, would you have the goodness to read it for me? I would then dictate the answer at once."
"Certainly, my child; bring me all your letters," rejoined the old man, dissimulating his satisfaction. "I am indeed much gratified by the confidence you show in me. Good-bye, then. I hope you feel less embarrassment now than when you entered?"
"I did not expect so much kindness, monsieur."
"Try to look on me as your reader and secretary, my child. Does it not seem as though we had known each other for ten years."
"Indeed it does—Good-bye, monsieur."