“Eighty francs, though I know it is worth a great deal more.” Then seeing that the small price he asked had only made his customer more suspicious, he went on:—
“My noble gentleman, I will tell you the truth. Formerly I was rich, and sold toys in a shop on the Boulevard; but misfortunes came upon me, I had to give up my business, and of all the beautiful things I had, this wooden horse is the only one I kept. I kept it for my children to play with; but, alas! noble sir, it has pleased heaven to take them away from me. Ah, my children! my children! they resembled your beautiful son. I would have kept this horse always in remembrance of them, but hunger, sir—hunger compels me to sell it.”
He dried his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Poor man!” said Mrs. de Malassise, much touched. Then she whispered to her husband, “My dear, I would give him twenty francs, and leave him the horse he is so fond of.”
“I see no reason for giving him twenty francs, and I think we should be wise to have nothing to do with the horse either. I suspect it’s a matter which the police will have something to do with sooner or later.”
“Oh, what a hard heart you have! and how suspicious you are!” rejoined the wife. “I am sure the poor man is truthful. Just look at his despair.”
The man was sitting on the ground, hiding his face with his hands. He seemed to have partly heard the whispered conversation, and said, “Her ladyship is an angel of charity, but I should not regret parting with the horse when I knew it would be in the hands of such a good young gentleman.”
Eusèbe at last put an end to the hesitation of his parents in a very simple way.
“Now, then,” he said, “why don’t you buy the horse?”
“No, no,” said his father, “let us go away.”