Jean stood there with his mouth agape, and his face paling. What! it was wicked? And he could not understand; from infancy he had always treated his sister like a comrade, and thought it quite a natural thing to open his heart to her. But what upset him above all else was to learn that she stopped up all night. The idea that he was killing her, and taking Pépé's share as well, affected him so much that he began to cry.
"You're right; I'm a scamp," he exclaimed. "Really now, I am quite furious with myself! I could slap my face!" He had taken her hands, and was kissing them and inundating them with tears. "Give me the fifteen francs, and this shall be the last time, I swear it to you. Or rather—no!—don't give me anything. I prefer to die. If the husband murders me it will be a good riddance
