“Why is it you always smile at death?� she asked.
“Ah, mademoiselle, you are not as I am,� he said quietly. “Death to me—the gates of Paradise stand open—suffering over—poverty no more!�
Tears gathered in Rosaline’s blue eyes.
“Do you suffer much now?� she asked.
“Nearly always,� he replied.
Again there was a painful silence. Then le Bossu recollected the slippers and rearranged the rosettes.
“They fit like gloves, mademoiselle,� he said calmly, “do they give you comfort?�
The girl roused herself.
“They are beautiful, Charlot,� she replied, standing up and pacing to and fro before the bench, to try them. “They do not even feel like new shoes. You are a magician.�
She had lifted her white skirts to show the two little blue feet. Le Bossu stood up too, admiring not only the slippers, but the beautiful face and the golden hair, as fair as the sunshine. Even Truffe, the poodle, danced about in open approval. Then they heard a sharp voice from the direction of the house.