—No, Mademoiselle is going to try her fortune elsewhere.
Madame Connard handed the bill to Monsieur Tibulle.
—No, no. It is Mademoiselle who is going to settle it; this young lady.
Zulma glanced at it and grew pale. She had hardly 10 francs, and the bill amounted to 19 francs, 75 centimes.
—And besides, it is so little because it is you. Everything is so dear here, and one does not know what to do for a living.
The poor girl remained silent; she looked at the bill without seeing it, for her eyes were full of tears.
—Well, said Monsieur Tibulle in a wheedling tone. Is there some little hindrance to your settling that?
—Madame, said Zulma, I have not enough money with me; no, I do not believe I have enough money … but I can find it, I know where to find it … and in an hour or two….
—Oh, oh, cried Madame Connard, in an hour or two, that is a very fine tale. But I know it, my girl, and people don't tell me that sort of thing.
—Well, dear Madame, I leave you, said Monsieur Tibulle, making her a knowing sign; I am going to see if my horse is put to, for I am setting off directly. Good-bye, little one, good-bye. No malice.