‘There is so much to do for the poor,’ said Yseulte, with a little hesitation; she feared to seem to boast of her own charity, yet she thought it wrong to let the child think that she spent all she had selfishly and frivolously.
Blanchette’s little rosy mouth grinned.
‘For the poor? One can quêter; that is always amusing. I stood at the door of S. Philippe after Mass last month, and I got such a bagful of napoleons, and I wore a frock, couleur de feu, and a Henri-Trois hat, and Monseigneur himself kissed me—it was great fun—there was a crowd in the street, and one of them said, “‘Est crâne, la pétiote!” It was a baker’s boy said it; I threw him a napoleon out of the bag.’
‘Oh, Blanchette!—out of the alms money!’
‘Why not? I put a dragée in instead, and I dare say the boy was poor, or he wouldn’t have had a basket on his head. Monseigneur said to mamma that I was one of the children of heaven!’
And Blanchette made her pied de nez, and waltzed round on one foot.
‘You could buy the whole of Siraudin’s and not feel it,’ she resumed enviously. ‘You could buy half Paris they say; why don’t you?’
‘I have all I want,’ said Yseulte; ‘very much more than I want.’
‘That is nonsense; one need never stop wishing——’
‘One must be very ungrateful then,’ said Yseulte. ‘But you can wish as much as you like this morning; you shall have your wishes. Only I should like to hear you wish that Toinon were with you. Poor Toinon, at home with her sore throat!’