CHAPTER X
HOMELESS
WHEN I returned to the inn with heavy heart and red eyes, the landlord was standing in the yard. I was going to pass him to get to my dogs, but he stopped me.
"Well, what about your master?" he asked.
"He is sentenced."
"How long?"
"Two months' prison."
"How much fine?"
"One hundred francs."
"Two months ... one hundred francs," he repeated two or three times.
I wanted to go on, but again he stopped me.
"What are you going to do these two months?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Oh, you don't know. You've got some money to live on and to buy food for your animals, I suppose."
"No, sir."
"Then do you count on me keeping you?"
"No, sir, I don't count on any one."
That was true. I did not count upon any one.
"Your master already owes me a lot of money," he continued. "I can't board you for two months
