"I am going to see if Mirontaine is cured, and if Madame Lamort can go up."
Violette had been at her stand for some time, when Monsieur de Brévanne came there and inquired about her neighbor. The girl gave him an exact description of his plight; she concealed nothing from him, neither his suffering, nor the privations which he was obliged to undergo, nor the pride which made him refuse any assistance in the form of money.
"He has no fire now," said Violette, her eyes wet with tear; "and he isn't willing that we should make him one before evening, because I go to sit with him in the evening, poor man! and he did not have the money to buy something that might perhaps have cured him.—Ah! he is very unfortunate!"
The count listened attentively to the girl's story; Roncherolle's position touched him more than he chose to show. He stood for some time buried in thought, then he said to Violette:
"I would like to judge for myself of this gentleman's plight, of his situation, but I should not want him to see me."
"That is very easy, monsieur; in the first place, Monsieur de Roncherolle never leaves his bed, and a person can stand in the outer room and look into the other without his seeing him; in the second place, he often sleeps, and I am always careful not to wake him."
"Well, I will go this evening, I will go to see you, with Georget."
"Oh! how kind it is of you, monsieur! I am very sure that you will have compassion on my poor neighbor."
"On your account—it is possible.—But not a word concerning me, my child!"
"Oh! I am dumb, monsieur; but I am very glad that you are coming to see my neighbor."