"But what will you do?" asked the lady.
"Oh, I can go barefoot," replied Louisa; "but you, madam, cannot possibly go in those shoes." And Louisa really believed what she said, for poor people, accustomed to see us surrounded with so many conveniences, which they manage to do without, sometimes imagine it would be impossible for us to support things which they endure as a matter of course. But although they entertain this opinion, we ought not to share it. We must not persuade ourselves that their skins are much less sensitive than our own, nor that they are constituted in a different manner to ourselves; but, accustomed to pain, they do not exaggerate it, and thus endure, without much suffering, things which we should think it impossible for us even to attempt, and which, nevertheless, would not do us more harm than they do them.
However, continued M. de Cideville, in the present case, it was not so. Louisa was young, and in good health, the lady aged, and an invalid. It was quite reasonable, therefore, that she should accept Louisa's offer, and she did so. Louisa making many apologies for not being able to present her shoes in better condition, accompanied her barefoot, and supported her, as she could not walk very well in such large and heavy shoes. When they reached the lady's residence, she made Louisa go in, in order to dry herself, and at the same time to reward her for the service she had rendered her. She also ordered her shoes to be dried before they were returned to her. They were placed near the kitchen fire; Louisa likewise seated herself there, and while talking with the servants, the kitchen-maid took one of the shoes in order to clean it, and accidentally raised up the outer sole which the water had almost entirely detached. The louis d'or fell out. For a moment Louisa was as much astonished as the rest, but she suddenly uttered a cry of joy, for she remembered that something had entered her shoe on the day she had been accused of taking the louis. She related her story, and the servants, greatly astonished, went and told it to their mistress. Louisa entreated the lady to give her a certificate of what had happened, that she might get a character from her master, and thus be able to obtain a situation. The lady caused inquiries to be made, not only at the shopkeeper's, where she learned that Louisa's account was entirely true, but also in the neighbourhood, where she had always been regarded as a very honest girl, and where no one believed that she had stolen the louis. The lady also perceived by her manners and conversation, that she was much superior to the station in which she had found her; she therefore took her into her service, in order to assist her lady's maid, who was old and infirm. She sent to the shopkeeper the amount of his louis in silver, and gave to Louisa the louis d'or, which had occasioned her so much injury, and so much good.
As often happens with uneducated persons, Louisa was superstitious. She imagined that her good fortune was attached to this louis d'or, which she had so long carried about her, without being aware of it. She therefore would not think of spending it, but still continued to carry it about her. It happened that her mistress while going to her country seat, which lay at some considerable distance from Paris, turned aside, for a few leagues, in order to spend a day with a friend, whose house was nearly on her route. She left Louisa at the post-house, with her luggage, where she was to take her up the following morning. As Louisa had nothing to do, she seated herself upon a bench before the door which faced the high road. Presently she beheld a young man riding up to the house, at full speed. He rode so rapidly that the postilion, by whom he was accompanied, could not keep pace with him, and was obliged to follow at some considerable distance behind. He was pale, apparently much fatigued, and also greatly agitated. He alighted from his horse, and ordered another to be saddled immediately; the ostlers could not make sufficient haste. As he was preparing to remount, he sought for money to defray his expenses, but he had not his purse. He searched all his pockets, and then perceived that at the last stage but one, where he had been obliged to change everything, in consequence of his horse having thrown him into a ditch full of water, he had forgotten his portmanteau, his purse, and his watch. He was greatly distressed and agitated. "What!" he exclaimed, "not a louis upon me! A louis would save my life." He inquired for the master of the inn, and was told that he was in the fields, and that there was no one in the house except his son, a lad of fifteen, and some postilions. "Can you not," he said, "find one louis to lend me? I will give you a cheque for ten." The men looked at each other without replying. He told them he was the Count de Marville, and that he was going two leagues further on. His wife was lying there ill, very ill, without a physician, and surrounded by persons who did not understand her constitution, and who were giving her remedies quite unsuitable to her state. The news had reached him at Paris: he had consulted his physician, and in order not to lose time, had taken post horses and travelled night and day. His servant, too weak to follow him, had been obliged to stop by the way, and as for himself, he had just travelled a double post, so that he was four leagues from the place where he had left his luggage, and had not a single louis to continue his journey, and save, perhaps, the life of his wife. But to all this, the men made no reply; they merely dispersed; the very agitation of the count destroyed their confidence in what he said. Besides, the postilion who had accompanied him, and to whom he had promised a liberal reward, in order to induce him to ride a double stage, was extremely dissatisfied, at not being even paid his hire, and complained, swore, and threatened to appeal to the mayor of the place. M. de Marville thought of nothing but the delay, and in his anxiety it seemed to him that the loss of a single hour might be fatal to his wife. Louisa heard all this; she knew the name of de Marville, having heard it mentioned by her mistress. She thought of her louis; it was the only money she had about her, for in travelling she placed the little she possessed in the care of her mistress, except the louis, which she could not part with. She thought it very hard to give it up: still it had drawn her from a state of so much misery, that she felt it would be a sin not to allow another to be benefited by it when it was in her power to do so. Taking it, therefore, out of the little pocket in which she always carried it, she offered it to M. de Marville, who, greatly delighted, asked her name, and promised that she should hear from him; then paying the postilion, and remounting his horse, he rode off; while Louisa, though she did not repent of what she had done, felt, nevertheless, a little uneasy, and the more so as the people of the inn assured her that she would never see her money again.
The following day, her mind was set at rest, by the return of her mistress, who was acquainted with M. de Marville, and had learned that his wife was in fact lying very ill, at the distance of two leagues from where they were. Louisa's sole anxiety now was to regain her louis, which was still at the post-house where M. de Marville had changed it, and it became henceforward more precious than ever in her estimation. M. de Marville did not forget what he owed her. He had found his wife extremely ill, and whether from the good effects of his treatment, or from some other cause, he had the delight of seeing her restored to health. He attributed her cure to Louisa, and as he was extremely attached to his wife, he considered himself under great obligations to one whom he regarded as her preserver. He went to see her at the seat of her mistress, repaid the louis, and also settled upon her a small annuity. On this occasion, his man-servant, who had some property, became acquainted with Louisa. He married her, and shortly after entered into the service of the same mistress. As he was a reasonable man, he wished her to spend the louis, for he knew that it was ridiculous to imagine that anything of this kind could bring good fortune; but Louisa would only consent to part with it, in payment of the first two months' nursing of her first child. The nurse of this child was a tenant of M. d'Auvray, the father of a little girl called Aloïse. To him she gave the louis, when paying the rent of her farm, and you shall presently see what use was made of it.
THE RENT.
Aloïse had for some time been very uneasy. Janette, the woman who used to bring her every other day a bunch of fresh chickweed for her bird, had not been near her for a whole week, and each time she thought of it, she said to her nurse, "I am sure my poor little Kiss will be ill, for want of some chickweed, for there is no shade in his cage when he is at the window, and the sun is shining over his head." And Aloïse actually feared that her bird would receive a coup de soleil. This fear, indeed, did not often occupy her thoughts, only whenever she went to talk to Kiss, she would say, "This naughty Janette, will she never come?"
Janette arrived at last, and Aloïse, when she saw her, gave her a good scolding, and hastily seizing a bunch of chickweed, and without giving herself the time to unfasten it, she tore a handful, and carried it to her bird, saying, "Poor Kiss! the sun is dreadfully hot!"
"Oh yes! Miss," said Janette, "it is indeed very hot, especially when one has just recovered from a fever."