"Yes, I should like nothing better than to pa.s.s my youth with you, taking "_Love forever_!" for my motto."
"I believe it: you are not difficult to please."
"Where is the harm? We are neighbors."
"If we were not neighbors, I should not walk out with you in this way."
"Then allow me to hope--"
"Hope what?" "That you will learn to love me."
"I love you already."
"Really?"
"To be sure I do and for a very simple reason. You are good and lively; although poor yourself, you do all you can for those unfortunate Morels, in interesting rich people in their behalf; you have a face that pleases me much, and a well-turned figure, which is agreeable and flattering to me, as I shall frequently accept your arm.
Here are, I think, many reasons that I should love you."
Then interrupting herself to enjoy a hearty laugh, Miss Dimpleton cried: "Look! look at that fat woman, with her old furrowed shoes; one could imagine her drawn along by two cats without tails!" And again she laughed merrily.
"I prefer looking at you, neighbor; I am so happy in thinking you already love me."
"I tell you so, because it is so; if you did not please me, I should say so all the same. I cannot reproach myself with having ever deceived or flattered any one; when people please me, I tell them so at once."
Then, interrupting herself again, to stop before a shop-window, the grisette exclaimed:
"Oh, look at that beautiful clock, and those two pretty vases! I have already saved up three francs and a half toward buying some like them.
In five or six years I may be able to manage it."
"Saved up, neighbor? Then you earn--"
"At least thirty sous a day--sometimes forty, but I only reckon upon thirty; it is more prudent, and I regulate my expenses accordingly,"
said Miss Dimpleton, with an air as important as though it related to the transactions of a financier.
"But with thirty sous a day, how can you manage to live?"
"The reckoning is not difficult; shall I explain it to you, neighbor?
You appear rather extravagant, so it may serve you as an example."
"Let"s hear it."
"Thirty sous a day will make forty-five francs a month, will it not?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, by that account I have twelve francs for lodging, and twenty-three francs for living."
"Twenty-three francs for a month"s living!"
"Yes, quite as much. I acknowledge that, for a person like myself, it is enormous; but then, you see, I refuse myself nothing."
"Oh, you little glutton!"
"Ah, but I also include food for my birds."
"Certainly, if you reckon for three, it is less extravagant. But let me hear the detail of your every-day management, that I may benefit by the instruction."
"Listen then. A pound of bread, that is four sous; milk, two sous-- that makes six; four sous for vegetables in winter, or fruit and salad in summer (I dote on salad and vegetables, because they do not soil the hands)--there is already ten sous; three sous for b.u.t.ter or oil and vinegar, as seasoning--thirteen sous; two pailfuls of water (oh, that is my luxury!) that will make fifteen sous; add to that two sous for chickweed and hempseed for my two birds, which usually share with me my bread and milk--that is twenty-two or twenty-three francs a month, neither more nor less."
"And do you never eat meat?"
"Oh, Lord! Meat indeed! that costs ten to twelve sous a pound; how can I think of that? Besides, it smells of the kitchen, of the stewpan; instead of which, milk, fruit, and vegetables require no cooking. I will tell you a dish I am very fond of, not troublesome, and which I make to perfection."
"Hold up the dish!"
"I put fine potatoes in the oven of my stove; when they are done, I mash them with a little b.u.t.ter and milk, and a pinch of salt. It is a meal for the G.o.ds! If you are well behaved I will let you taste them some day."
"Prepared by your pretty hands, it cannot fail to be excellent. But let us see neighbor; we have already reckoned twenty-three francs for living, and twelve francs for lodging--that makes thirty-five francs a month."
"Well, then, out of the forty-five or fifty francs I earn, there remain to me ten or fifteen francs for wood and oil during winter, as well as for my dress and washing--that is to say for soap--as, excepting my sheets, I wash for myself: that is another luxury--a laundress would pretty well ruin me; and as I also iron very well, I thereby save my money. During the five winter months I burn a load and a half of wood, and four or five sous-worth of oil in the day for my lamp; that makes nearly eighteen francs a year for my light and fire."
"So that there remain to you more than a hundred francs for your clothing?"
"Yes; and it is from that I have saved the three francs and a half."
"But your dresses--your shoes and stockings--this pretty cap?"
"My caps I only wear when I go out, and that does not ruin me, for I make them myself; at home I am satisfied with my hair. As to my dresses and boots--is there not the Temple?"--"Oh, yes, that contentment, excellent Temple! Well, you buy there--"
"Very good and pretty dresses. You must know that rich ladies are accustomed to give their old dresses to their waiting maids--when I say old, I mean that maybe they have worn them in their carriages a month or two--and their servants go and sell them to people who keep shops at the Temple for almost nothing. Thus, you see, I have a nice merino dress that I bought for fifteen francs, which perhaps cost sixty; it has hardly been put on and is beautifully fine. I altered it to fit me, and I flatter myself it does me credit."
"Indeed you do it much credit! Thanks to the resources of the Temple, I begin to think you can manage to dress respectably with a hundred francs a year."
"To be sure I can. Why, I can buy charming dresses for five or six francs; and boots, the same that I have on now, and almost new, for two or three francs. Look! would not any one say that they were made for me?" said Miss Dimpleton, stooping and showing the tip of her pretty little foot, very nicely set off by the well-made and well-fitting boot.
"The foot is charming, truly; but you must find a difficulty in fitting it. After that you will doubtless tell me that they sell children"s shoes at the Temple."
"You are a sad flatterer, neighbor; however, after what I have told you, you will acknowledge that a girl, quite alone and well, can live respectably on thirty sous a day? I must tell you, by-the-by, the four hundred and fifty francs which I brought from prison a.s.sisted materially in establishing me. When once known that I possessed furniture, it inspired confidence and I had work intrusted to me to take home; but it was necessary to wait a long time before I could meet with employment. Fortunately I kept sufficient money to live upon for three months, without earning anything."
"Spite of your gay, heedless manner, allow me to say that you possess a great deal of good sense, neighbor."
"Nay, when one is alone in the world, and would not be under obligation to any one, you must exercise some management to build your nest well, and take care of it when it is built, as the saying is."
"And your nest is delightful!"
"Is it not? for, as I have said, I refuse myself nothing; I consider I have a lodging above my station. Then, again, I have birds; in summer always at least two pots of flowers on the mantelpiece, besides the boxes in the windows; and then, as I told you, I had three francs or more in my money-box, toward ornaments I hoped one day to be able to purchase for the chimney-piece."
"And what became of these savings?"