And he left you so much as that, Madame John? Ah! my
old friend John, always noble! And you had it all in that naughty bank?
Ah, well, Madame John, it matters little. No, I shall not tell 'Tite
Poulette. Adieu."
And another time:--"If I will let you tell me something? With pleasure,
Madame John. No, and not tell anybody, Madame John. No, Madame, not even
'Tite Poulette. What?"--a long whistle--"is that pos-si-ble?--and
Monsieur John knew it?--encouraged it?--eh, well, eh, well!--But--can I
believe you, Madame John? Oh! you have Monsieur John's sworn statement.
Ah! very good, truly, but--you _say_ you have it; but where is it? Ah!
to-morrow!" a sceptical shrug. "Pardon me, Madame John, I think perhaps,
_perhaps_ you are telling the truth.
"If I think you did right? Certainly! What nature keeps back, accident
sometimes gives, Madame John; either is God's will. Don't cry. 'Stealing
from the dead?' No! It was giving, yes! They are thanking you in heaven,
Madame John."
Kristian Koppig, lying awake, but motionless and with closed eyes, hears
in part, and, fancying he understands, rejoices with silent intensity.
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