“I don’t think that Denise gives very much thought to us. Hasn’t she a lover? Isn’t she to be married?”
“Is that a reason for not thanking her for her chickens, lieutenant?”
“Perhaps she came to Paris to invite me to her wedding.”
“I don’t know what she came for; but she seemed unhappy when she went away. She said she wouldn’t trouble you any more, and I saw tears in her eyes. That touched me, I admit; the child is so sweet and pretty, and anyone can see that her tears ain’t make-believe.”
Auguste was apparently reflecting on what the ex-corporal had said, when there was a violent ring at the door, and Bertrand announced that an old gentleman whose face denoted intense excitement, wished to see Monsieur Dalville. Auguste was surprised to recognize Monsieur Monin, whose eyes, even more staring than usual, seemed to indicate that something of grave importance had happened.
“Is it you, Monsieur Monin?” said Auguste, offering a chair to the ex-druggist, who, despite his excitement, inquired as he seated himself:
“How’s the state of your health?”
“I ought rather to ask you that, Monsieur Monin. You look as if you were in some trouble; may I know what it is?”
“Yes, monsieur; I have less than I had! that’s why I’ve come.”
“What do you say? less than you had? I don’t understand.”