is his trade!"

Wandering as were his wits, he caught the last word and turned fiercely
round; but there was no recognition in his eye.

"Trade, Monsieur!" he echoed. "Trade!--you shall not call him trade! Do
you know who I am, that you dare call him trade? _Dieu des Dieux!
N'est-ce pas que je suis noble, moi?_ Trade!--when did one of my race
embrace a trade? _Canaille!_ I do condescend for my reasons to take your
money, but you shall not call him a trade!"

Exhausted by this sudden burst of passion, he fell back upon his pillow,
muttering and flushed. I bent over him, and caught a scattered phrase
from time to time. He was dreaming of wealth, fancying himself rich and
powerful, poor wretch! and all unconscious of his condition.

"You shall see my Chateaux," he said, "my horses--my carriages.
Listen--it is the ringing of the bells. Aha! _le jour viendra--le jour
viendra_! Conjuror! who speaks of a conjuror? I never was a conjuror! I
deny it: and he lies who says it! _Attendons_! Is the curtain up? Ah! my
table--where is my table? I cannot play till I have my table.
_Scélérats! je suis volé! je l'ai perdu! je l'ai perdu_! Ah, what shall
I do? What shall I do? They have taken my table--they have taken...."

He burst into tears, moaned twice or thrice, closed his eyes, and fell
into a troubled sleep.

The landlady sobbed. Hers was a kind heart, and the little Frenchman's
simple courtesy had won her good-will from the first.