"I will teach her to sing first; then she shall go to Quebec, and
afterwards to Paris, my friend," he answered.
The girl's eyes were dilating with a great joy. "Ah, Parpon--good
Parpon!" she whispered.
"But Paris! Paris! There's gossip for you, thick as mortar," cried the
charcoalman, and the mealman's fingers beat a tattoo on his stomach.
Parpon waved his hand. "'Look to the weevil in your meal, Duclosse; and
you, smutty-face, leave true things to your betters. See, blacksmith,"
he added, "she shall go to Quebec, and after that to Paris."
Here he got off the wheels, and stepped out into the centre of the shop.
"Our master will do that for you. I swear for him, and who can say that
Parpon was ever a liar?"
The blacksmith's hand tightened on his daughter's shoulder. He was
trembling with excitement.
"Is it true? is it true?" he asked, and the sweat stood out on his
forehead.
"He sends this for Madelinette," answered the dwarf, handing over a
little bag of gold to the girl, who drew back. But Parpon went close to
her, and gently forced it into her hands.
"Open it," he said. She did so, and the blacksmith's eyes gloated on the
gold. Muroc and Duclosse drew near, and peered in also. And so they
stood there for a little while, all looking and exclaiming.
Presently Lajeunesse scratched his head. "Nobody does nothing for
nothing," said he.
Pages:
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33