"When I think of my good louis that is gone!" she added tragically.
The only feature making for charm in a coarse homely face was a set of white even teeth. I found her singularly unattractive. A tear rolled down her cheek and its course was that of a rill in a dusty plain.
"Suppose I lend you the money for the railway tickets?" said my master kindly.
"O Monsieur," she cried, "I should thank you from the depths of my heart. Grandpère," she turned to the old man who, ashen faced, was staring in front of him, "Monsieur will lend us enough money to get to Chambéry."
"I can go no further," he murmured.
Then his eyelids quivered, his body moved spasmodically, and he swayed sideways off the chair on to the ground.
We rushed to aid him. The girl put his head on her lap. My master bade me run into the café for brandy. When I returned the old man was dead.
Narcisse sat placidly by, with his tongue out, eyeing his master ironically.
"You are the man," his glance implied, "who said that nothing happens here."
I have known many dogs in my life, but never so mocking and cynical a dog as Narcisse.