The things we do!

"There is ondly one wad can be," he continued.
"But oo, Miche?"
"God."
"Ah, Miche Vignevielle"--She looked at him appealingly.
"I don' goin' to dizzerd you, Madame Carraze," he said.
She lifted her eyes. They filled. She shook her head, a tear fell, she
bit her lip, smiled, and suddenly dropped her face into both hands, sat
down upon the bench and wept until she shook.
"You dunno wad I mean, Madame Carraze?"
She did not know.
"I mean dad guardian of you' daughteh godd to fine 'er now one 'uzban';
an' noboddie are hable to do dad egceb de good God 'imsev. But, Madame,
I tell you wad I do."
She rose up. He continued:
"Go h-open you' owze; I fin' you' daughteh dad uzban'."
Madame Delphine was a helpless, timid thing; but her eyes showed she was
about to resent this offer. Monsieur Vignevielle put forth his hand--it
touched her shoulder--and said, kindly still, and without eagerness:
"One w'ite man, Madame: 'tis prattycabble. I know 'tis prattycabble. One
w'ite jantleman, Madame.


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