“Into my room, of course.”
“What for, monsieur?”
“You will see; come.”
The youth placed his tallow-dip on the floor, and followed the gentleman; his heart was still heavy, for he didn’t understand how the person who occupied the handsome apartment on the third floor could need his services so late. Monsieur Malberg passed through a reception room very carefully polished, and into a beautiful dining-room. There he stopped, opened a large sideboard, took out a loaf of sugar, which was hardly touched, and placed it in Georget’s hand, saying:
“Take this!”
The poor boy looked at him with an almost dazed expression, and murmured:
“What is this, monsieur?”
“Don’t you see that it is sugar?”
“Sugar, oh, yes! but this great loaf,—who’s all this for?”
“For your mother, of course! Didn’t you tell me that she hadn’t any and that she was sick?”