worry you while we were out, but Rose made me feel anxious to-day; I did
not find her well, and it was only this evening that I felt more at ease
about her." Then, seeing that Mathieu started and turned pale, she went
on: "Oh! it was nothing. I should not have gone out if I had felt the
least fear for her. But with those little folks one is never free from
anxiety."

She then began to make her preparations for the night; but Mathieu,
instead of imitating her, sat down at the table where the lamp stood, and
drew the money paid to him by Morange from his pocket. When he had
counted those three hundred francs, those fifteen louis, he said in a
bitter, jesting way, "The money hasn't grown on the road. Here it is; you
can pay our debts to-morrow."

This remark gave him a fresh idea. Taking his pencil he began to jot down
the various amounts they owed on a blank page of his pocket diary. "We
say twelve francs to the Lepailleurs for eggs and milk. How much do you
owe the butcher?" he asked.

"The butcher," replied Marianne, who had sat down to take off her shoes;
"well, say twenty francs."

"And the grocer and the baker?"

"I don't know exactly, but about thirty francs altogether. There is
nobody else."

Then Mathieu added up the items: "That makes sixty-two francs," said he.
"Take them away from three hundred, and we shall have two hundred and
thirty-eight left. Eight francs a day at the utmost. Well, we have a nice