Du Bousquier offered her three hundred francs.

Suzanne made what is called on the stage a false exit; that is, she marched toward the door.
"Stop, stop! where are you going ?" said du Bousquier, uneasily.

"This is what comes of a bachelor's life!" thought he.

"The devil take me if I ever did anything more than rumple her collar, and, lo and behold! she makes THAT a ground to put her hand in one's pocket!" "I'm going, monsieur," replied Suzanne, "to Madame Granson, the treasurer of the Maternity Society, who, to my knowledge, has saved many a poor girl in my condition from suicide." "Madame Granson!" "Yes," said Suzanne, "a relation of Mademoiselle Cormon, the president of the Maternity Society.

Saving your presence, the ladies of the town have created an institution to protect poor creatures from destroying their infants, like that handsome Faustine of Argentan who was executed for it three years ago." "Here, Suzanne," said du Bousquier, giving her a key, "open that secretary, and take out the bag you'll find there: there's about six hundred francs in it; it is all I possess." "Old cheat!" thought Suzanne, doing as he told her, "I'll tell about your false toupet." She compared du Bousquier with that charming chevalier, who had given her nothing, it is true, but who had comprehended her, advised her, and carried all grisettes in his heart.
"If you deceive me, Suzanne," cried du Bousquier, as he saw her with her hand in the drawer, "you--" "Monsieur," she said, interrupting him with ineffable impertinence, "wouldn't you have given me money if I had asked for it ?" Recalled to a sense of gallantry, du Bousquier had a remembrance of past happiness and grunted his assent.