"Oh! never fear, mamzelle, he'll have to give it back to you; I'll see to that.—But come, mamzelle, let's go away from here; I will take you home. The coal can look out for itself; besides, you live here in the faubourg, I believe."
"No, Chicotin; I have taken another room in a quieter house, on Rue de Crussol, and I've been living there a week."
"Rue de Crussol! I have a customer there. It would be funny if it was the same house. Come, mamzelle, take my arm; you are trembling and cold; I'll bet that you've got a fever."
"Perhaps so, a little; I got wet through; I have just come from Nogent, and I was out in part of the storm."
"You must go to bed at once when you get home, and try to keep very warm."
Violette took the young messenger's arm. They crossed the bridge at Rue d'Angoulême, and soon reached Rue de Crussol. The girl stopped in front of the house where Chicotin had found rooms for Roncherolle.
"This is the place," said Violette.
"Ah! what a coincidence! this is my customer's house. Which floor do you live on?"
"Oh! way up at the top, under the eaves; I believe it's the sixth floor; but the room is very pleasant, I assure you."
"That must be right over my gouty man. Is Mère Lamort your concierge?"