Goudar spoke to the man, and then came to me shrugging his shoulders, and saying,—
"We have come at a sad time. That man is a bailiff who has come to take the mother to prison if she can't pay her landlord the twenty guineas' rent she owes him, and they haven't got a farthing. When the mother has been sent to prison the landlord will no doubt turn the girls out of doors."
"They can live with their mother for nothing."
"Not at all. If they have got the money they can have their meals in prison, but no one is allowed to live in a prison except the prisoners."
I asked one of them where her sisters were.
"They have gone out, to look for money, for the landlord won't accept any surety, and we have nothing to sell."
"All this is very sad; what does your mother say?"
"She only weeps, and yet, though she is ill and cannot leave her bed, they are going to take her to prison. By way of consolation the landlord says he will have her carried."
"It is very hard. But your looks please me, mademoiselle, and if you will be kind I may be able to extricate you from the difficulty."
"I do not know what you mean by 'kind.'"