“Stop,” said she, “you are in the wrong. Although you are not rich, you were kind this morning. Be so again now. You gave me something to eat, now tell me what ails you. You are grieved, that is plain. I do not want you to be grieved. What can be done for it? Can I be of any service? Employ me. I do not ask for your secrets, you need not tell them to me, but I may be of use, nevertheless. I may be able to help you, since I help my father. When it is necessary to carry letters, to go to houses, to inquire from door to door, to find out an address, to follow anyone, I am of service. Well, you may assuredly tell me what is the matter with you, and I will go and speak to the persons; sometimes it is enough if someone speaks to the persons, that suffices to let them understand matters, and everything comes right. Make use of me.”

An idea flashed across Marius’ mind. What branch does one disdain when one feels that one is falling?

He drew near to the Jondrette girl.

“Listen⁠—” he said to her.