"Here is some money to buy linen with, madame, if you will kindly attend to it. If it is not enough, please let me know——"
Mignonne refused to take the money, saying in a severe tone:
"It's not worth while for you to give me this money, monsieur; I am not in the habit of buying materials myself. Besides, I cannot, at this moment, undertake the work you offer me. I haven't time to do it; I have other work that is more urgent."
I sadly put the money back in my pocket, mumbling:
"But I'm not in any hurry for the shirts, madame; you may make them when you choose."
"No, monsieur; I don't accept work unless I have time to do it.—Adieu, monsieur!"
She had thrown her door wide open, and she stood at one side, apparently inviting me to go. She dismissed me, she was anxious to see the last of me. Clearly, to remain any longer would simply have irritated her more. I rose and bowed low, but I paused in the doorway to say to her:
"I venture to hope, madame, that I shall be more fortunate another time, and that you will then consent to work for me."
"Yes, monsieur, another time."
And she closed her door almost in my face. I was incensed against myself. If I had not called her Mignonne, she would have undertaken the work I offered her. Now she looked upon me with suspicion, with horror perhaps, thinking that I was a friend of Fouvenard, and remembering why he sent his friends to her and how they treated her.