M. Chateaudoux pretended not to hear.

"I want nothing," he said, "nothing in the world;" and he repeated the
statement in order to drown the other's voice.

"A purse, good gentleman," persisted the hawker, and he dangled one
before Chateaudoux's eyes. Not for anything would Chateaudoux take that
purse.

"Go away," he cried; "I have a sufficiency of purses, and I will not be
plagued by you."

They were now at the steps of the villa, and the sentry, lifting the
butt of his musket, roughly thrust the hawker back.

"What have you there? Bring your basket here," said he; and to
Chateaudoux's consternation the hawker immediately offered the purse to
the sentinel.

"It is only the poor who have kind hearts," he said; "here's the proper
purse for a soldier. It is so hard to get the money out that a man is
saved an ocean of drink."

The hawker's readiness destroyed any suspicions the sentinel may have
felt.

"Go away," he said, "quick!"

"You will buy the purse?"