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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 132 pages of information about The Wandering Jew Volume 10.

“Oh, my good dear!” said the latter, with as much volubility as emotion, while her pretty blue eyes were filled with tears; “is it possible that you did so stupid a thing?  Do not poor people help one another?  Could you not apply to me?  You knew that others are welcome to whatever is mine, and I would have made a raffle of Philemon’s bazaar,” added this singular girl, with a burst of feeling, at once sincere, touching, and grotesque; “I would have sold his three boots, pipes, boating-costume, bed, and even his great drinking-glass, and at all events you should not have been brought to such an ugly pass.  Philemon would not have minded, for he is a good fellow; and if he had minded, it would have been all the same.  Thank heaven! we are not married.  I am only wishing to remind you that you should have thought of little Rose-Pompon.”

“I know you are obliging and kind, miss,” said Mother Bunch:  for she had heard from her sister that Rose-Pompon, like so many of her class, had a warm and generous heart.

“After all,” resumed the grisette, wiping with the back of her hand the tip of her little nose, down which a tear was trickling, “you may tell me that you did not know where I had taken up my quarters.  It’s a queer story, I can tell you.  When I say queer,” added Rose-Pompon, with a deep sigh, “it is quite the contrary—­but no matter:  I need not trouble you with that.  One thing is certain; you are getting better—­and you and Cephyse will not do such a thing again.  She is said to be very weak.  Can I not see her yet, M. Agricola?

“No,” said the smith, with embarrassment, for Mother Bunch kept her eyes fixed upon him; “you must have patience.”

“But I may see her to-day, Agricola?” exclaimed the hunchback.

“We will talk about that.  Only be calm, I entreat.”

“Agricola is right; you must be reasonable, my good dear,” resumed Rose Pompon; “we will wait patiently.  I can wait too, for I have to talk presently to this lady;” and Rose-Pompon glanced at Adrienne with the expression of an angry cat.  “Yes, yes; I can wait; for I long to tell Cephyse also that she may reckon upon me.”  Here Rose-Pompon bridled up very prettily, and thus continued, “Do not be uneasy!  It is the least one can do, when one is in a good position, to share the advantages with one’s friends, who are not so well off.  It would be a fine thing to keep one’s happiness to one’s self! to stuff it with straw, and put it under a glass, and let no one touch it!  When I talk of happiness, it’s only to make talk; it is true in one sense; but to another, you see, my good dear—­Bah!  I am only seventeen—­but no matter—­I might go on talking till tomorrow, and you would not be any the wiser.  So let me kiss you once more, and don’t be down-hearted—­nor Cephyse either, do you hear? for I shall be close at hand.”

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