She was in a state to excite pity.

Her eyes, worn with tears; her face, weary with the fatigue of a sleepless night; her feeble voice,--in short, everything about her proved an excess of suffering she could not have borne a second time, and appealed to sympathy.
When Oscar entered the room she signed to him to sit down beside her, and reminded him in a gentle but grieved voice of the benefits they had so constantly received from the steward of Presles.

She told him that they had lived, especially for the last six years, on the delicate charity of Monsieur Moreau; and that Monsieur Clapart's salary, also the "demi-bourse," or scholarship, by which he (Oscar) had obtained an education, was due to the Comte de Serizy.

Most of this would now cease.
Monsieur Clapart, she said, had no claim to a pension,--his period of service not being long enough to obtain one.

On the day when he was no longer able to keep his place, what would become of them?
"For myself," she said, "by nursing the sick, or living as a housekeeper in some great family, I could support myself and Monsieur Clapart; but you, Oscar, what could you do?
You have no means, and you must earn some, for you must live.