"And Monnier--what of him? No doubt he is a National Guard, and has his
pay?"

The woman made no answer, but hung down her head. She was stifling a
sob. Till then her eyes seemed to have exhausted the last source of
tears.

"He lives still?" continued Victor, pityingly: "he is not wounded?"

"No: he is well--in health; thank you kindly, Monsieur."

"But his pay is not enough to help you, and of course he can get no work.
Excuse me if I stopped you. It is because I owed Armand Monnier a little
debt for work, and I am ashamed to say that it quite escaped my memory in
these terrible events. Allow me, Madame, to pay it to you," and he
thrust his purse into her hand. "I think this contains about the sum I
owed; if more or less, we will settle the difference later. Take care of
yourself."

He was turning away when the woman caught hold of him.

"Stay, Monsieur. May Heaven bless you!--but--but tell me what name I am
to give to Armand. I can't think of any one who owed him money. It must
have been before that dreadful strike, the beginning of all our woes.
Ah, if it were allowed to curse any one, I fear my last breath would not
be a prayer."

"You would curse the strike, or the master who did not forgive Armand's
share in it?"