"I think so, brother, from a barge."
"You see, Francois, you told a lie!" said Martial. The boy held down his head, without answering.
"Give me the handkerchief, Amandine; give me yours, also, Francois."
The little girl took off her head-dress, took a last look at the enormous rosette, and gave it to Martial, stifling a sigh of regret. Francois drew his slowly from his pocket, and, like his sister, returned it to Martial.
"To-morrow morning," said he, "I will give these to Nicholas. You should not have taken them, my children; to profit by a theft is the same as to be the thief."
"It's a pity—they are so handsome!" said Francois.
"When you have learned a trade, and earn money, you can buy some quite as handsome. Come, go to bed; it is late, children."
"You are not angry, brother?" said Amandine timidly.
"No, no, my girl; it is not your fault. You live with rogues—you do as they do without knowing it. When you are with honest people, you will do as they do; and you soon shall be there—or deuce take me! Good-night!"
"Good-night, brother;" and, embracing them both, Martial departed.