"Now thou art well, what wilt thou do?"
"I—I—I shall go away."
"Why didst thou help me?"
"My pocket and paunch were empty. It seemed a chance."
"Thy two reasons are good. Who art thou?"
"Who is every one in the Cité? A thief."
"Diable! but thou art honest—in speech at least."
"Yes, sometimes. I was a conjurer too—for a while."
"Yes, yes, I remember now. Thou art the fellow with a laugh. I see not yet why thou hast helped me. Thou mightest easier have helped the rascals and shared their gains."
François began to be interested, and laughed a laugh which was the most honest of his possessions.