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The pair sat down opposite each other at their little dinner-table. They had a fixed hour for dinner. It is well to have a fixed hour; it is in the direction of system. Even if you have not the dinner, there is the hour. Alphonsina was not in perfect harmony with this fixed-hour idea.
But very well, Mademoiselle Silence, I will match you for making me do all the talking." She was really beginning to sink under the labor of carrying all the sprightliness for both. "Come," she said, savagely, "propose something." "Would you think well to go and inquire?" "Ah, listen! Go and what? No, Mademoiselle, I think not." "Well, send Alphonsina." "What?
They were now both hungry, but in want of some present friend acquainted with the motions of mental distress who could guess this fact and press them to eat. By their eyes it was plain they had been weeping much; by the subdued tone, too, of their short and infrequent speeches. Alphonsina, having made the fire, went out with a bundle. It was Aurora's last good dress.
Clotilde turned her saddened eyes with a steady scrutiny upon her deceiver, who gazed upward in apparently unconscious reverie, and sighed softly as she laid her head upon the high chair-back and stretched out her feet. "I wish Alphonsina would come back," she said. "Ah!" she added, hearing a footfall on the step outside the street door, "there she is." She arose and drew the bolt.
"Oh!" exclaimed Aurora, inwardly ready for fierce tears, but with no outward betrayal save a trifle too much grace and an over-bright smile, "Monsieur is much mistaken; we are quite comfortable and happy, wanting nothing, eh, Clotilde? not even our rights, ha, ha!" She rose and let Alphonsina in. The bundle was still in the negress's arms.
Alphonsina only living property of Aurora and Clotilde was called upon to light a fire in the little parlor. Elsewhere, although the day was declining, few persons felt such a need; but in No. 19 rue Bienville there were two chilling influences combined requiring an artificial offset.
Unseen to her, the person whose footsteps she had heard stood upon the doorstep with a hand lifted to knock, but pausing to "makeup his mind." He heard the bolt shoot back, recognized the nature of the mistake, and, feeling that here again he was robbed of volition, rapped. "That is not Alphonsina!" The two ladies looked at each other and turned pale.
I accept your advice. Alphonsina!" "Momselle!" The answer came from the kitchen. "Come go or, rather, vini 'ci courri dans boutique de l'apothecaire. Clotilde," she continued, in better French, holding up the coin to view, "look!" "What?" "The last picayune we have in the world ha, ha, ha!"
"Hold still!" said Clotilde. "But when my hand itches," retorted Aurore in a high key, "haven't I got to put it instantly into my pocket if I want the money to come there? Well, then!" The daughter proposed to go to the kitchen and tell Alphonsina to put on her shoes. "My child," cried Aurore, "you are crazy! Do you want Alphonsina to be seized for the rent?"
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