was less for the little Jan than for him whom she hoped
to make his step-father. 'Gome/ she coaxed, ewe will
keep each other company since both of us are bound
for the port; and when you have finished discussing
your affairs you shall come in and give me a few words
of advice as to how I must deal with my dishonest
landlord. He refuses to make good those broken
gutters. Houi, a woman without her own man is
surely the prey of all other men; yes, yes, so it is . . .
but you I will trust, you shall tell me how I must deal
with my landlord.3
Goundran sighed largely and ruffled his hair, as he
turned to follow her out of the parlour.
Then one after another the guests departed, until
finally only Eusebe remained, half asleep in front of
an empty bottle.
J6us& shook him: cGet up! Rouse yourself you old
sot, and cease from slobbering over your short. In
another moment you will sink to the floor, and then it
is I who must carry you home — gramaci, and that in
God's good daylight! Do you hear me? I insist that
you rouse yourself.5 And he tugged at Eusebe's ear
none too gently.
cZ6u . . / muttered Eusebe. And then: cBono-nue
. . . but first I must finish this wine of God.'
'Not at all; you will'go at once/ Jouse told him as
he hauled the toper on to his feet, cyou will go at once.
Aliens, I will support you.3 And slipping an arm
round Eusebe3 s waist, he managed to drag him out of
the house and across the street to his own little shop
where he left him squatting among his sandals.
Presently Jouse returned to the parlour, and he
stood gazing down at his wife and child: 'Nosto-Damo-
d'Amour!3 he exclaimed blissfully, cDid ever a man
know such joy as mine? Did ever a man have so fine
a son, or so gentle a wife, or so prosperous a business,
or so many good friends? God has surely been kind.3