Ask the butcher, if you don't believe ME.

Just you ask him whether he does not go three times to the smallest shopkeeper, for once he goes to Beaurepaire.

Their tenants send them a little meal and eggs, and now and then a hen; and their great garden is chock full of fruit and vegetables, and Jacintha makes me dig in it gratis; and so they muddle on.

But, bless your heart, coffee! they can't afford it; so they roast a lot of horse-beans that cost nothing, and grind them, and serve up the liquor in a silver coffee-pot, on a silver salver.

Haw, haw, haw!" "Is it possible?
reduced to this ?" said Edouard gravely.
"Don't you be so weak as to pity them," cried the remorseless plebeian.
"Why don't they melt their silver into soup, and cut down their plate into rashers of bacon?
why not sell the superfluous, and buy the needful, which it is grub?
And, above all, why don't they let their old tumble-down palace to some rich grocer, and that accursed garden along with it, where I sweat gratis, and live small and comfortable, and pay honest men for their little odd jobs, and"-- Here Riviere interrupted him, and asked if it was really true about the beans.
"True ?" said Dard, "why, I have seen Rose doing it for the old woman's breakfast: it was Rose invented the move.