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when this woman slowly opened her wonderful
eyes and looked at me:
“Faites ce que vous pouvez, Monsieur le
Docteur,” she murmured, “car quarante mille
pauvres dépendent de moi.”
* * *
The Little Sisters of the Poor are toiling from
morning till night at their work, the most useful
and the most ungrateful form of charity I know
of. You need not come to Rome to find them,
poverty and old age are all over the world and
so are the Little Sisters of the Poor with their
empty hamper and their empty moneybox.
Do put your suit of old clothes in their hamper,
never mind your size, all sizes will do for the
Little Sisters of the Poor. Top hats are getting
out of fashion, you had better give them your
top hat as well. There will always be in their
wards an old Monsieur Alphonse, hidden behind
a pair of blue curtains, busy brushing his
broken-down top hat, the last vestige of bygone
prosperity. Do send him on his day out for a
joyride down the Corso in your smart victoria. It
is much better for your liver to go for a long
walk in the Campagna with your dog. Do
invite him to luncheon next Thursday, there is
no better stimulant for lost appetite than to
watch a hungry man having his fill. Give him
his glass of Frascati wine to help him to forget,
but put the decanter away when he begins to
remember.
Do put some of your savings in the Little
Sisters’ moneybox, even a penny will do, believe
me you never made a safer investment.
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