“He will work.”
“If you thought that he could work you wouldn’t be so anxious to get rid of him. It is not for the money that’s paid for their keep that you people take in lost children, it’s for the work that you can get out of them. You make servants of them, they pay you and they themselves get no wages. If this child could have done much for you, you would have kept him.”
“Anyway, I should always have ten francs a month.”
“And if the Home, instead of letting you have him, gave him to some one else, you wouldn’t get anything at all. Now with me you won’t have to run for your money, all you have to do is to hold out your hand.”
He pulled a leather purse from his pocket, counting out four silver pieces of money; he threw them down on the table, making them ring as they fell.
“But think,” cried Barberin; “this child’s parents will show up one day or the other.”
“What does that matter?”
“Well, those who’ve brought him up will get something. If I hadn’t thought of that I wouldn’t have taken him in the first place.”
Oh! the wicked man! How I did dislike Barberin!
“Now, look here, it’s because you think his parents won’t show up now that you’re turning him out,” said the old man. “Well, if by any chance they do appear, they’ll go straight to you, not to me, for nobody knows me.”