“Alas, mademoiselle!” said the sempstress: “you appear to have too good a heart, for me to let you entertain such a wish—particularly now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I hope sincerely, mademoiselle,” proceeded Mother Bunch, with deep sadness, “that you may never know what it is to want work, when labor is your only resource.”
“Are you reduced to that extremity?” cried Florine, looking anxiously at the young sempstress, who hung her head, and made no answer. She reproached herself, in her excessive delicacy, with having made a communication which resembled a complaint, though it had only been wrung from her by the thought of her dreadful situation.
“If it is so,” went on Florine, “I pity you with all my heart; and yet I know not, if my misfortunes are not still greater than yours.”
Then, after a moment’s reflection, Florine exclaimed, suddenly: “But let me see! If you are really in that position, I think I can procure you some work.”
“Is it possible, mademoiselle?” cried Mother Bunch. “I should never have dared to ask you such a service; but your generous offer commands my confidence, and may save me from destruction. I will confess to you, that, only this morning, I was thrown out of an employment which enabled me to earn four francs a week.”
“Four francs a week!” exclaimed Florine, hardly able to believe what she heard.
“It was little, doubtless,” replied the other; “but enough for me. Unfortunately, the person who employed me, has found out where it can be done still cheaper.”
“Four francs a week!” repeated Florine, deeply touched by so much misery and resignation. “Well! I think I can introduce you to persons, who will secure you wages of at least two francs a day.”