For, I tell you this," and he fumbled for a scrap of paper in
his ragged trousers pocket, "it is billiards that leads on to a dram
and plum-brandy.--It is ruinous, like all fine things, in the things
it leads to. I know your orders, but the old 'un is in such a quandary
that I came on to forbidden grounds.--If the hair was all hair, we
might sleep sound on it; but it is mixed. God is not for all, as the
saying goes. He has His favorites--well, He has the right. Now, here
is the writing of your estimable relative and my very good friend--his
political opinion."
Chardin attempted to trace some zigzag lines in the air with the
forefinger of his right hand.
Lisbeth, not listening to him, read these few words:
"DEAR COUSIN,--Be my Providence; give me three hundred francs this
day.
"HECTOR."
"What does he want so much money for?"
"The lan'lord!" said Chardin, still trying to sketch arabesques. "And
then my son, you see, has come back from Algiers through Spain and
Bayonee, and, and--he has _found_ nothing--against his rule, for a
sharp cove is my son, saving your presence. How can he help it, he is
in want of food; but he will repay all we lend him, for he is going to
get up a company.
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