THE AMERICAN
man good-naturedly. "Your daughter too, you see, makes herself understood."
"Oh sir!" and M. Nioche looked over his spectacles with tearful eyes, nodding out of his depths of sadness. She has had an education—très-supérieure! Nothing was spared. Lessons in pastel at ten francs the lesson, lessons in oil at twelve francs. I did n't look at the francs then. She's a serious worker."
"Do I understand you to say that you've had a bad time?" asked Newman.
"A bad time? Oh sir, misfortunes—terrible!"
"Unsuccessful in business?"
"Very unsuccessful, sir."
"Oh, never fear; you'll get on your legs again," said Newman cheerily.
The old man cast his head to one side; he wore an expression of pain, as if this were an unfeeling jest: whereupon "What is it he says?" Mademoiselle Noémie demanded.
M. Nioche took a pinch of snuff. "He says I shall make my fortune again."
"Perhaps he'll help you. And what else?"
"He says thou hast a great deal of head."
"It's very possible. You believe it yourself, my father."
"Believe it, my daughter? With this evidence!" And the old man turned afresh, in staring, wondering homage, to the audacious daub on the easel.
"Ask him then if he 'd not like to learn French."
"To learn French?"
"To take lessons."
11
