"With some one who isn't a bit better than your Emperor, I can tell you that. The two would make a pretty pair. Bah!"
"And who is it that is such a good match for the emperor, Mother Barbançon?"
"It is—"
But the housekeeper suddenly checked herself.
"Poor, dear man," she thought, "it would almost kill him if I should tell him that the rent isn't paid, that the expenses of his illness have eaten up every penny of his money, as well as sixty francs of my own. I'll wait until M. Olivier comes. He may have some good news for us."
"What the deuce are you mooning about there instead of answering me, Mother Barbançon? Is it some new atrocity of the little corporal's that you are going to treat me to?"
"How glad I am! That must be M. Olivier," cried the housekeeper, hearing the bell ring again, gently this time.
And again leaving her employer, Madame Barbançon ran to the door. It was, indeed, the commander's nephew this time.
"Well, M. Olivier?" asked the housekeeper, anxiously.
"We are saved," replied the young man, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "My worthy friend, the mason, had some difficulty in getting the money he owed me, for I had not told him I should want it so soon, but here are the two hundred francs at last," said Olivier, handing a little bag of coin to the housekeeper.