At last François, getting back his somewhat scattered wits, said: "We can talk now."
"Ah, I understand," said the other; "thou didst steal her purse from me, and put it back in her pouch."
"Yes; I took it just as they caught thee; then I let it fall into her pouch."
"I thank thee, monsieur. Dieu! I am all in a sweat. We are of a trade, I perceive. Why didst thou help me?"
"To keep it was a risk. My turn might have come next. I pitied thee, too."
"I shall never forget it—never."
François laughed. The fat man looked up at him. "Dame! but thou hast a queer face, and ears like wings. 'T is a fortune. Let us have a little wine and talk. I have a good idea."
"Presently," said François; "I like not the neighborhood."
Soon they found a guinguette, or low liquor-shop, in the Rue Neuve des Petits Champs, and, feeling at last secure, had a long talk over a bottle of wine.
François learned that his new acquaintance was named Pierre Despard, and that he had, for the most part of his means of living, given up the business of relieving the rich of their purses. He explained that he did well as a conjurer, and had a booth near the Pont Neuf. He made clear to François that with his quick fingers, and a face which none could see and not laugh, he would be a desirable partner.