"Oh, dear count, had you only something to ask!"
"Perhaps I have. I should like to obtain an indefinite furlough for the Zouave Coucou."
"That shall be granted to you, you may rest assured."
"Thanks, more I do not want."
"But it is hardly worth while your applying to one who am in power for the moment, a support of the Republic, in order to obtain such a bagatelle. Consider, you may perhaps think of something else."
"Yes, and have almost forgotten it," said the count smiling, while he tore a leaf from his pocketbook and quickly wrote a few words.
"So," turning to Beauchamp, "permit me to hand you a small contribution for the poor of Paris—"
"Dear count," interrupted the journalist, quite moved, "if you consider a million francs a small contribution, then I should like to see your large ones."
"My dear friend," said the count, almost sorrowfully, "what is a million to me with my great wealth? The sun of a poor person overweighs my gift a thousandfold."