“Oh! where could we get a hundred louis to bring doctors from Paris? There is still time,” cried the baroness.
“A hundred louis!” cried Zephirine; “will that save him?”
Without waiting for her sister-in-law’s reply, the old maid ran her hands through the placket-holes of her gown, unfastened the petticoat beneath it, which gave forth a heavy sound as it dropped to the floor. She knew so well the places where she had sewn in her louis that she now ripped them out with the rapidity of magic. The gold pieces rang as they fell, one by one, into her lap. The old Pen-Hoel gazed at this performance in stupefied amazement.
“But they’ll see you!” she whispered in her friend’s ear.
“Thirty-seven,” answered Zephirine, continuing to count.
“Every one will know how much you have.”
“Forty-two.”
“Double louis! all new! How did you get them, you who can’t see clearly?”
“I felt them. Here’s one hundred and four louis,” cried Zephirine. “Is that enough?”
“What is all this?” asked the Chevalier du Halga, who now came in, unable to understand the attitude of his old blind friend, holding out her petticoat which was full of gold coins.