Victor Chupin?" inquired M. Fortunat.
The sound of his voice made the young man spring to his feet. He
quickly lifted the shade from his lamp, and, without attempting to
conceal his astonishment, exclaimed: "M'sieur Fortunat!--at this
hour! Where's the fire?" Then, in a grave manner that contrasted
strangely with his accustomed levity: "Mother," said he, "this is
one of my patrons, M'sieur Fortunat--you know--the gentleman whom
I collect for."
The knitter rose, bowed respectfully, and said: "I hope, sir, that
you are pleased with my son, and that he's honest."
"Certainly, madame," replied the agent; "certainly. Victor is one
of my best and most reliable clerks."
"Then I'm content," said the woman, reseating herself.
Chupin also seemed delighted "This is my good mother, sir," said
he. "She's almost blind now; but, in less than six months she
will be able to stand at her window and see a pin in the middle of
the street, so the physician who is treating her eyes promised me;
then we shall be all right again. But take a seat, sir. May we
venture to offer you anything?"
Although his clerk had more than once alluded to his
responsibilities, M. Fortunat was amazed. He marvelled at the
perfume of honesty which exhaled from these poor people, at the
dignity of this humble woman, and at the protecting and respectful
affection evinced by her son--a young man, whose usual tone of
voice and general behavior had seemed to indicate that he was
decidedly a scapegrace.
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