Before the colonel had time to ask who this boy was,—for he knew Jacques was not one of his scholars,—Emilie seized his hand, and with the coaxing voice that children know how to use so well when they want to ask a favor, she said,—
“I can walk without crutches now, colonel.”
“I am rejoiced to hear it, my child. You ought to be able to do so.”
“And I have grown almost an inch in six months. O, I am so much obliged to you, colonel!”
“You mean to my gymnasium, my dear child.”
“No, to you, colonel, to you. For really I was much worse than Jacques is, and to-day I am better than he is.”
“Who is Jacques?”
“This boy that you see here,” said Emilie, taking the hand of Jacques, who was hiding behind her, and making him come forward before the colonel. “He is the son of a slater. His father is dead. He fell from a roof. Poor man! His mother is very miserable, for she has another child to take care of; so you see yourself, colonel, it is quite necessary that he should be able to stand alone.”
All the time that M. Amoros was examining Jacques, rolling up the sleeves of his jacket to see his arms, turning up his trousers to look at his legs, feeling his spine, and making him stretch out his limbs, Emilie continued, with a coaxing voice,—
“If you are willing, Colonel Amoros, we can make an arrangement. O, you must not refuse me, I beg of you!”