But  then  there  must  be  satne  fortune.  A  Frenchman  is  so
much  in  the  habit  of  expecting  it,  that  he  thinks  it  almost  a
crime  to  &11  in  love  where  there  is  none.  Fran9oise,  pretty,
clever,  agreeable  as  she  was,  was  penniless,  and  even  worse,
she  was  the  daughter  of  a  man  who  had  been  imprisoned  on
suspicion  of  murder,  and  a  woman  who  had  gained  her  liveli-
hood by  needlework.  All  these  considerations  made  the  fancy
of  the  merry  abbd  less  ridiculous,  and  Fran9oise  herself,  being
sufficiently  versed  in  the  ways  of  the  world  to  understand  the
disadvantage  under  which  she  laboured,  was  less  amazed  and
disgusted  than  another  girl  might  have  been,  when,  in  due
course,  the  cripple  offered  her  himself  and  his  dumb-waiter.
He  had  little  more  to  give — his  pension,  a  tiny  income  from
his  prebend  and  his  Marquisat  de  Quinet.
The  offer  of  the  little  man  was  not  so  amusing  as  other  epi-
sodes of  his  life.  He  went  honestly  to  work ;  represented  to
her  what  a  sad  lot  would  hers  be,  if  Madame  de  Neuillant  died,
and  what  were  the  temptations  of  beauty  without  a  penny.
His  arguments  were  more  to  the  point  than  delicate,  and  he
talked  to  the  young  girl  as  if  she  was  a  woman  of  the  world.
Srill,  she  accepted  him,  cripple  as  he  was.
