Pierre had leant forward on seeing Laveuve's eyes open, and he spoke tohim tenderly, telling him that he had come from a friend with a littlemoney to enable him to buy what he might most pressingly require. Atfirst, on seeing Pierre's cassock, the old man had growled some coarsewords; but, despite his extreme feebleness, he still retained the pertchaffing spirit of the Parisian artisan: "Well, then, I'll willinglydrink a drop," he said distinctly, "and have a bit of bread with it, ifthere's the needful; for I've lost taste of both for a couple of dayspast."
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Celine offered her services, and Madame Theodore sent her to fetch a loafand a quart of wine with Abbe Rose's money. And in the interval she toldPierre how Laveuve was at one moment to have entered the Asylum of theInvalids of Labour, a charitable enterprise whose lady patronesses werepresided over by Baroness Duvillard. However, the usual regulationinquiries had doubtless led to such an unfavourable report that mattershad gone no further.
"Baroness Duvillard! but I know her, and will go to see her to-day!"exclaimed Pierre, whose heart was bleeding. "It is impossible for a manto be left in such circumstances any longer."Then, as Celine came back with the loaf and the wine, the three of themtried to make Laveuve more comfortable, raised him on his heap of rags,gave him to eat and to drink, and then left the remainder of the wine andthe loaf--a large four-pound loaf--near him, recommending him to waitawhile before he finished the bread, as otherwise he might stifle."Monsieur l'Abbe ought to give me his address in case I should have anynews to send him," said Madame Theodore when she again found herself ather door.
Pierre had no card with him, and so all three went into the room. ButSalvat was no longer alone there. He stood talking in a low voice veryquickly, and almost mouth to mouth, with a young fellow of twenty. Thelatter, who was slim and dark, with a sprouting beard and hair cut inbrush fashion, had bright eyes, a straight nose and thin lips set in apale and slightly freckled face, betokening great intelligence. Withstern and stubborn brow, he stood shivering in his well-worn jacket."Monsieur l'Abbe wants to leave me his address for the Philosopher'saffair," gently explained Madame Theodore, annoyed to find another therewith Salvat.
The two men had glanced at the priest and then looked at one another,each with terrible mien. And they suddenly ceased speaking in the bittercold which fell from the ceiling. Then, again with infinite precaution,Salvat went to take his tool-bag from alongside the wall."So you are going down, you are again going to look for work?" askedMadame Theodore.
He did not answer, but merely made an angry gesture, as if to say that hewould no longer have anything to do with work since work for so long atime had not cared to have anything to do with him."All the same," resumed the woman, "try to bring something back with you,for you know there's nothing. At what time will you be back?"With another gesture he seemed to answer that he would come back when hecould, perhaps never. And tears rising, despite all his efforts, to his
