“Mr. Desgranges!”
“How!” said the young man, moved and surprised; “he knew you by the touch of your hand.”
“I do not need even that,” said the blind man; “when he passes me in the street, I say to myself, 'That is his step.'” And, seizing the hand of Mr. Desgranges, he kissed it with ardour. “It was indeed you, Mr. Desgranges, who prevented my falling—always you.”
“Why,” said the young man, “do you expose yourself to such accidents, by dragging this cask?”
“One must attend to his business, sir,” replied he, gayly.
“Your business?”
“Undoubtedly,” added Mr. Desgranges. “James is our water-carrier. But I shall scold him for going out without his wife to guide him.”
“My wife was gone away. I took the little girl. One must be a little energetic, must he not? And, you see, I have done very well since I last saw you, my dear Mr. Desgranges; and you have assisted me.”
“Come, James, now finish serving your customers, and then you can call and see me. I am going home.”
“Thank you, sir. Good-by, sir; good-by, sir.”