"Well, then, mother, did not Cordelia inquire by her glances whether she was to send to the baker for bread, and whether the remnant of yesterday's dinner should not be served again in honor of my presence? And did not your nod reply, 'Yes?' Was not that the meaning of it? Do I guess right?"
"Yes, my son," said madame, smiling; "I see that my haughty daughters Pauline and Eliza have made you familiar with the habits of my household."
"They have," exclaimed Napoleon. "They told me Madame Mere had every day only three loaves of white bread brought from the baker for herself and Cordelia."
"They told you the truth; all my officers and servants receive their board-money, and three loaves are sufficient for us two. Ah, my son, how happy would you have often been, when still a lieutenant, had you had only one of the three loaves every day!"
"Eliza told me still other things," said Napoleon, casting a glance toward the large oil painting. "She told me you had, like all honest bourgeoises, your water-carrier, who furnished every day six buckets of water."
"Eliza told you the truth again. It is still the same water-carrier whom we employed when we lived in the Faubourg St. Honore; he is a faithful and honest man; why, then should I withdraw this little patronage from him?"
"But you pay him no more for his water, now that you are the emperor's mother, than you did when you were a poor widow with nine children."
"God makes the water flow, and it is the same now as then. Why should I, then, pay more for it?"
"Eliza told me, also," added the emperor, dwelling with singular perseverance on the same subject, "that, instead of collecting a library, and buying the books you read, you have subscribed to the bookseller Renard's circulating library."
"There are very few books that deserve the honor of being bought," said madame, in a dignified tone.