“'Thank you, sir.'
“'You met with a sad misfortune there.'
“'Yes, sir.'
“His voice was cold, short, without any emotion. He expected nothing from any one. I pronounced the words 'assistance,' 'public compassion.'
“'Assistance!' cried his wife, suddenly, with a tone of despair; 'they ought to give it to us; they must help us; we have done nothing to bring upon us this misfortune; they will not let my children die with hunger.'
“She asked for nothing—begged for nothing. She claimed help. This imperative beggary touched me more than the common lamentations of poverty, for it was the voice of despair; and I felt in my purse for some pieces of silver.
“The man then, who had till now been silent, said, with a hollow tone,
“'Your children must die, since I can no longer see.'
“There is a strange power in the human voice. My money fell back into my purse. I was ashamed of the precarious assistance. I felt that here was a call for something more than mere almsgiving—the charity of a day. I soon formed my resolution.”
“But what could you do?” said the young man, to Mr. Desgranges.