'God will provide,' the child repeated, taking the hundred-franc note from her mother's hands and giving it to Don Crescenzio.
Ah! at that moment, before these poor people, who counted their mouthfuls of bread, who stinted themselves of the last remnant of their money to help him; at that moment, in the midst of sad, gentle expressions on the faces of ruined folk, who still kept faith and compassion, he felt his heart break; he shook as if he was going to faint. For a minute he thought of not taking the money; but it seemed to him charmed, made sacred by passing through that good woman's hands and the brave little girl's. He only said quiveringly:
'Forgive me, forgive me for taking it.'
'It is nothing,' Cesare Fragalà said at once, with his easy good-nature.
'You are so kind, so kind,' Crescenzio muttered, as he took leave, looking humbly at the two—the woman and the child—who bore misfortune so bravely.
Cesare went out of the room with him.
'I am sorry it is so little,' he said; 'it won't do you any good.'
'It is worth a hundred thousand, as far as the heart is concerned!' the lottery-keeper exclaimed sadly. 'But I have to give four thousand six hundred francs to Government, and this is all I have got.'
'Have the others given you nothing?'