“I’d go back without minding at all,” answered the boy, “but poor folk can’t do what they want, and God knows when I’ll be going back to my old mother who’s crying and waiting for me.”
“You’re ambitious then?”
“I want to get bread. I’m young and strong, and work’s better paid in London than at home. That’s why I’ve come.”
“Well,” said D’Orsay, “I’d like to help you make your fortune. Here’s a guinea for your match. To-morrow, come to Hyde Park when the promenade is full; bring with you a box of matches, and when you see me with a lot of people round me, come up and offer me your ware.”
Naturally enough the boy turned up at the right hour and the right place.
“Who’ll buy my matches,” he called out.
“Aha! It’s you,” said D’Orsay. “Give me one quick to light my cigar.”
Another guinea—and the Count said carelessly to those grouped around him—
“Just imagine, that I couldn’t smoke a cigar which is not lit with one of this boy’s matches—others seem to me horrible.”
No sooner hinted than done; off went the matches and down came the guineas, and addresses even were given for delivery of a further supply.