“I must.”
“The position you fill is humble.”
“I was very glad to accept it at a time when my daily bread was not certain.”
“You have been reduced,” said the young girl, with trembling voice, “to such—”
“Wretchedness. Yes, Mademoiselle, my outset in life was hard. I am without relations. Mother Marechal, a kind fruiterer of the Rue Pavee au Marais, found me one morning by the curbstone, rolled in a number of the Constitutionnel, like an old pair of boots. The good woman took me home, brought me up and sent me to college. I must tell you that I was very successful and gained a scholarship. I won all the prizes. Yes, and I had to sell my gilt-edged books from the Lycee Charlemagne in the days of distress. I was eighteen when my benefactress, Mother Marechal, died. I was without help or succor. I tried to get along by myself. After ten years of struggling and privations I felt physical and moral vigor giving way. I looked around me and saw those who overcame obstacles were stronger than I. I felt that I was doomed not to make way in the world, not being one of those who could command, so I resigned myself to obey. I fill a humble position as you know, but one which satisfies my wants. I am without ambition. A little philosophical, I observe all that goes on around me. I live happily like Diogenes in his tub.”
“You are a wise man,” resumed Suzanne. “I, too, am a philosopher, and I live amid surroundings which do not please me. I, unfortunately, lost my mother when I was very young, and although my father is very kind, he has been obliged to neglect me a little. I see around me people who are millionaires or who aspire to be. I am doomed to receive the attentions of such men as Le Bride and Du Tremblay—empty-headed coxcombs, who court my money, and to whom I am not a woman, but a sack of ducats trimmed with lace.”
“These gentlemen are the modern Argonauts. They are in search of the Golden Fleece,” observed Marechal.
“The Argonauts!” cried Suzanne, laughing. “You are right. I shall never call them anything else.”
“Oh, they will not understand you!” said Marechal, gayly. “I don’t think they know much of mythology.”
“Well, you see I am not very happy in the bosom of riches,” continued the young girl. “Do not abandon me. Come and talk with me sometimes. You will not chatter trivialities. It will be a change from the others.”