A START IN LIFE

 BY

 HONORE DE BALZAC

 Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley

 DEDICATION

 To Laure. 

 Let the brilliant mind that gave me the subject of this Scene have the honor of it. 

 Her brother, De Balzac

 A START IN LIFE

 CHAPTER I

 THAT WHICH WAS LACKING TO PIERROTIN'S HAPPINESS

Railroads, in a future not far distant, must force certain industriesto disappear forever, and modify several others, more especially thoserelating to the different modes of transportation in use around Paris. Therefore the persons and things which are the elements of this Scenewill soon give to it the character of an archaeological work. Ournephews ought to be enchanted to learn the social material of an epochwhich they will call the "olden time. " The picturesque "coucous" whichstood on the Place de la Concorde, encumbering the Cours-la-Reine, --coucous which had flourished for a century, and were still numerousin 1830, scarcely exist in 1842, unless on the occasion of someattractive suburban solemnity, like that of the Grandes Eaux ofVersailles. In 1820, the various celebrated places called the"Environs of Paris" did not all possess a regular stage-coach service. 

Nevertheless, the Touchards, father and son, had acquired a monopolyof travel and transportation to all the populous towns within aradius of forty-five miles; and their enterprise constituted a fineestablishment in the rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis. In spite of theirlong-standing rights, in spite, too, of their efforts, their capital, and all the advantages of a powerful centralization, the Touchardcoaches ("messageries") found terrible competition in the coucous forall points with a circumference of fifteen or twenty miles. Thepassion of the Parisian for the country is such that local enterprisecould successfully compete with the Lesser Stage company, --PetitesMessageries, the name given to the Touchard enterprise to distinguishit from that of the Grandes Messageries of the rue Montmartre. At thetime of which we write, the Touchard success was stimulatingspeculators. For every small locality in the neighborhood of Paristhere sprang up schemes of beautiful, rapid, and commodious vehicles, departing and arriving in Paris at fixed hours, which produced, naturally, a fierce competition. Beaten on the long distances oftwelve to eighteen miles, the coucou came down to shorter trips, andso lived on for several years. At last, however, it succumbed toomnibuses, which demonstrated the possibility of carrying eighteenpersons in a vehicle drawn by two horses. To-day the coucous--if bychance any of those birds of ponderous flight still linger in thesecond-hand carriage-shops--might be made, as to its structure andarrangement, the subject of learned researches comparable to those ofCuvier on the animals discovered in the chalk pits of Montmartre. 

These petty enterprises, which had struggled since 1822 against theTouchards, usually found a strong foothold in the good-will andsympathy of the inhabitants of the districts which they served. Theperson undertaking the business as proprietor and conductor was nearlyalways an inn-keeper along the route, to whom the beings, things, andinterests with which he had to do were all familiar. He could executecommissions intelligently; he never asked as much for his littlestages, and therefore obtained more custom than the Touchard coaches. He managed to elude the necessity of a custom-house permit. If needwere, he was willing to infringe the law as to the number ofpassengers he might carry. In short, he possessed the affection of themasses; and thus it happened that whenever a rival came upon the sameroute, if his days for running were not the same as those of thecoucou, travellers would put off their journey to make it with theirlong-tried coachman, although his vehicle and his horses might be in afar from reassuring condition. 

One of the lines which the Touchards, father and son, endeavored tomonopolize, and the one most stoutly disputed (as indeed it still is), is that of Paris to Beaumont-sur-Oise, --a line extremely profitable, for three rival enterprises worked it in 1822. In vain the Touchardslowered their price; in vain they constructed better coaches andstarted oftener. Competition still continued, so productive is a lineon which are little towns like Saint-Denis and Saint-Brice, andvillages like Pierrefitte, Groslay, Ecouen, Poncelles, Moisselles, Monsoult, Maffliers, Franconville, Presles, Nointel, Nerville, etc. The Touchard coaches finally extended their route to Chambly; butcompetition followed. To-day the Toulouse, a rival enterprise, goes asfar as Beauvais. 

Along this route, which is that toward England, there lies a roadwhich turns off at a place well-named, in view of its topography, TheCave, and leads through a most delightful valley in the basin of theOise to the little town of Isle-Adam, doubly celebrated as the cradleof the family, now extinct, of Isle-Adam, and also as the formerresidence of the Bourbon-Contis. Isle-Adam is a little town flanked bytwo large villages, Nogent and Parmain, both remarkable for splendidquarries, which have furnished material for many of the finestbuildings in modern Paris and in foreign lands, --for the base andcapital of the columns of the Brussels theatre are of Nogent stone. Though remarkable for its beautiful sites, for the famous chateauxwhich princes, monks, and designers have built, such as Cassan, Stors, Le Val, Nointel, Persan, etc. , this region had escaped competition in1822, and was reached by two coaches only, working more or less inharmony. 

This exception to the rule of rivalry was founded on reasons that areeasy to understand. From the Cave, the point on the route to Englandwhere a paved road (due to the luxury of the Princes of Conti) turnedoff to Isle-Adam, the distance is six miles. No speculating enterprisewould make such a detour, for Isle-Adam was the terminus of the road, which did not go beyond it. Of late years, another road has been madebetween the valley of Montmorency and the valley of the Oise; but in1822 the only road which led to Isle-Adam was the paved highway of thePrinces of Conti. Pierrotin and his colleague reigned, therefore, fromParis to Isle-Adam, beloved by every one along the way. Pierrotin'svehicle, together with that of his comrade, and Pierrotin himself, were so well known that even the inhabitants on the main road as faras the Cave were in the habit of using them; for there was alwaysbetter chance of a seat to be had than in the Beaumont coaches, whichwere almost always full. Pierrotin and his competitor were on the bestof terms. When the former started from Isle-Adam, the latter wasreturning from Paris, and vice versa. 

It is unnecessary to speak of the rival. Pierrotin possessed thesympathies of his region; besides, he is the only one of the two whoappears in this veracious narrative. Let it suffice you to know thatthe two coach proprietors lived under a good understanding, rivalledeach other loyally, and obtained customers by honorable proceedings. In Paris they used, for economy's sake, the same yard, hotel, andstable, the same coach-house, office, and clerk. This detail is alonesufficient to show that Pierrotin and his competitor were, as thepopular saying is, "good dough. " The hotel at which they put up inParis, at the corner of the rue d'Enghien, is still there, and iscalled the "Lion d'Argent. " The proprietor of the establishment, whichfrom time immemorial had lodged coachmen and coaches, drove himselffor the great company of Daumartin, which was so firmly establishedthat its neighbors, the Touchards, whose place of business wasdirectly opposite, never dreamed of starting a rival coach on theDaumartin line. 

Though the departures for Isle-Adam professed to take place at a fixedhour, Pierrotin and his co-rival practised an indulgence in thatrespect which won for them the grateful affection of the country-people, and also violent remonstrances on the part of strangers accustomedto the regularity of the great lines of public conveyances. But thetwo conductors of these vehicles, which were half diligence, halfcoucou, were invariably defended by their regular customers. Theafternoon departure at four o'clock usually lagged on till half-past, while that of the morning, fixed for eight o'clock, was seldom knownto take place before nine. In this respect, however, the system waselastic. In summer, that golden period for the coaching business, therule of departure, rigorous toward strangers, was often relaxed forcountry customers. This method not infrequently enabled Pierrotin topocket two fares for one place, if a countryman came early and wanteda seat already booked and paid for by some "bird of passage" who was, unluckily for himself, a little late. Such elasticity will certainlynot commend itself to purists in morality; but Pierrotin and hiscolleague justified it on the varied grounds of "hard times, " of theirlosses during the winter months, of the necessity of soon gettingbetter coaches, and of the duty of keeping exactly to the ruleswritten on the tariff, copies of which were, however, never shown, unless some chance traveller was obstinate enough to demand it. 

Pierrotin, a man about forty years of age, was already the father of afamily. Released from the cavalry on the great disbandment of 1815, the worthy fellow had succeeded his father, who for many years haddriven a coucou of capricious flight between Paris and Isle-Adam. Having married the daughter of a small inn-keeper, he enlarged hisbusiness, made it a regular service, and became noted for hisintelligence and a certain military precision. Active and decided inhis ways, Pierrotin (the name seems to have been a sobriquet)contrived to give, by the vivacity of his countenance, an expressionof sly shrewdness to his ruddy and weather-stained visage whichsuggested wit. He was not without that facility of speech which isacquired chiefly through "seeing life" and other countries. His voice, by dint of talking to his horses and shouting "Gare!" was rough; buthe managed to tone it down with the bourgeois. His clothing, like thatof all coachmen of the second class, consisted of stout boots, heavywith nails, made at Isle-Adam, trousers of bottle-green velveteen, waistcoat of the same, over which he wore, while exercising hisfunctions, a blue blouse, ornamented on the collar, shoulder-strapsand cuffs, with many-colored embroidery. A cap with a visor coveredhis head. His military career had left in Pierrotin's manners andcustoms a great respect for all social superiority, and a habit ofobedience to persons of the upper classes; and though he neverwillingly mingled with the lesser bourgeoisie, he always respectedwomen in whatever station of life they belonged. Nevertheless, by dintof "trundling the world, "--one of his own expressions, --he had come tolook upon those he conveyed as so many walking parcels, who requiredless care than the inanimate ones, --the essential object of a coachingbusiness. 

Warned by the general movement which, since the Peace, wasrevolutionizing his calling, Pierrotin would not allow himself to beoutdone by the progress of new lights. Since the beginning of thesummer season he had talked much of a certain large coach, orderedfrom Farry, Breilmann, and Company, the best makers of diligences, --apurchase necessitated by an increasing influx of travellers. Pierrotin's present establishment consisted of two vehicles. One, which served in winter, and the only one he reported to thetax-gatherer, was the coucou which he inherited from his father. Therounded flanks of this vehicle allowed him to put six travellers ontwo seats, of metallic hardness in spite of the yellow Utrecht velvetwith which they were covered. These seats were separated by a woodenbar inserted in the sides of the carriage at the height of thetravellers' shoulders, which could be placed or removed at will. Thisbar, specially covered with velvet (Pierrotin called it "a back"), wasthe despair of the passengers, from the great difficulty they found inplacing and removing it. If the "back" was difficult and even painfulto handle, that was nothing to the suffering caused to the omoplateswhen the bar was in place. But when it was left to lie loose acrossthe coach, it made both ingress and egress extremely perilous, especially to women. 

Though each seat of this vehicle, with rounded sides like those of apregnant woman, could rightfully carry only three passengers, it wasnot uncommon to see eight persons on the two seats jammed togetherlike herrings in a barrel. Pierrotin declared that the travellers werefar more comfortable in a solid, immovable mass; whereas when onlythree were on a seat they banged each other perpetually, and ran muchrisk of injuring their hats against the roof by the violent jolting ofthe roads. In front of the vehicle was a wooden bench where Pierrotinsat, on which three travellers could perch; when there, they went, aseverybody knows, by the name of "rabbits. " On certain trips Pierrotinplaced four rabbits on the bench, and sat himself at the side, on asort of box placed below the body of the coach as a foot-rest for therabbits, which was always full of straw, or of packages that feared nodamage. The body of this particular coucou was painted yellow, embellished along the top with a band of barber's blue, on which couldbe read, on the sides, in silvery white letters, "Isle-Adam, Paris, "and across the back, "Line to Isle-Adam. "

Our descendants will be mightily mistaken if they fancy that thirteenpersons including Pierrotin were all that this vehicle could carry. Ongreat occasions it could take three more in a square compartmentcovered with an awning, where the trunks, cases, and packages werepiled; but the prudent Pierrotin only allowed his regular customers tosit there, and even they were not allowed to get in until at somedistance beyond the "barriere. " The occupants of the "hen-roost" (thename given by conductors to this section of their vehicles) were madeto get down outside of every village or town where there was a post ofgendarmerie; the overloading forbidden by law, "for the safety ofpassengers, " being too obvious to allow the gendarme on duty--always afriend to Pierrotin--to avoid the necessity of reporting this flagrantviolation of the ordinances. Thus on certain Saturday nights andMonday mornings, Pierrotin's coucou "trundled" fifteen travellers; buton such occasions, in order to drag it along, he gave his stout oldhorse, called Rougeot, a mate in the person of a little beast nobigger than a pony, about whose merits he had much to say. This littlehorse was a mare named Bichette; she ate little, she was spirited, shewas indefatigable, she was worth her weight in gold. 

"My wife wouldn't give her for that fat lazybones of a Rougeot!" criedPierrotin, when some traveller would joke him about his epitome of ahorse. 

The difference between this vehicle and the other consisted chiefly inthe fact that the other was on four wheels. This coach, of comicalconstruction, called the "four-wheel-coach, " held seventeentravellers, though it was bound not to carry more than fourteen. Itrumbled so noisily that the inhabitants of Isle-Adam frequently said, "Here comes Pierrotin!" when he was scarcely out of the forest whichcrowns the slope of the valley. It was divided into two lobes, so tospeak: one, called the "interior, " contained six passengers on twoseats; the other, a sort of cabriolet constructed in front, was calledthe "coupe. " This coupe was closed in with very inconvenient andfantastic glass sashes, a description of which would take too muchspace to allow of its being given here. The four-wheeled coach wassurmounted by a hooded "imperial, " into which Pierrotin managed topoke six passengers; this space was inclosed by leather curtains. Pierrotin himself sat on an almost invisible seat perched just belowthe sashes of the coupe. 

The master of the establishment paid the tax which was levied upon allpublic conveyances on his coucou only, which was rated to carry sixpersons; and he took out a special permit each time that he drove thefour-wheeler. This may seem extraordinary in these days, but when thetax on vehicles was first imposed, it was done very timidly, and suchdeceptions were easily practised by the coach proprietors, alwayspleased to "faire la queue" (cheat of their dues) the governmentofficials, to use the argot of their vocabulary. Gradually the greedyTreasury became severe; it forced all public conveyances not to rollunless they carried two certificates, --one showing that they had beenweighed, the other that their taxes were duly paid. All things havetheir salad days, even the Treasury; and in 1822 those days stilllasted. Often in summer, the "four-wheel-coach, " and the coucoujourneyed together, carrying between them thirty-two passengers, though Pierrotin was only paying a tax on six. On these speciallylucky days the convoy started from the faubourg Saint-Denis athalf-past four o'clock in the afternoon, and arrived gallantly atIsle-Adam by ten at night. Proud of this service, which necessitatedthe hire of an extra horse, Pierrotin was wont to say:--

"We went at a fine pace!"

But in order to do the twenty-seven miles in five hours with hiscaravan, he was forced to omit certain stoppages along the road, --atSaint-Brice, Moisselles, and La Cave. 

The hotel du Lion d'Argent occupies a piece of land which is very deepfor its width. Though its frontage has only three or four windows onthe faubourg Saint-Denis, the building extends back through a longcourt-yard, at the end of which are the stables, forming a large housestanding close against the division wall of the adjoining property. The entrance is through a sort of passage-way beneath the floor of thesecond story, in which two or three coaches had room to stand. In 1822the offices of all the lines of coaches which started from the Liond'Argent were kept by the wife of the inn-keeper, who had as manybooks as there were lines. She received the fares, booked thepassengers, and stowed away, good-naturedly, in her vast kitchen thevarious packages and parcels to be transported. Travellers weresatisfied with this easy-going, patriarchal system. If they arrivedtoo soon, they seated themselves beneath the hood of the huge kitchenchimney, or stood within the passage-way, or crossed to the Cafe del'Echiquier, which forms the corner of the street so named. 

In the early days of the autumn of 1822, on a Saturday morning, Pierrotin was standing, with his hands thrust into his pockets throughthe apertures of his blouse, beneath the porte-cochere of the Liond'Argent, whence he could see, diagonally, the kitchen of the inn, andthrough the long court-yard to the stables, which were defined inblack at the end of it. Daumartin's diligence had just started, plunging heavily after those of the Touchards. It was past eighto'clock. Under the enormous porch or passage, above which could beread on a long sign, "Hotel du Lion d'Argent, " stood the stablemen andporters of the coaching-lines watching the lively start of thevehicles which deceives so many travellers, making them believe thatthe horses will be kept to that vigorous gait. 

"Shall I harness up, master?" asked Pierrotin's hostler, when therewas nothing more to be seen along the road. 

"It is a quarter-past eight, and I don't see any travellers, " repliedPierrotin. "Where have they poked themselves? Yes, harness up all thesame. And there are no parcels either! Twenty good Gods! a fine daylike this, and I've only four booked! A pretty state of things for aSaturday! It is always the same when you want money! A dog's life, anda dog's business!"

"If you had more, where would you put them? There's nothing left butthe cabriolet, " said the hostler, intending to soothe Pierrotin. 

"You forget the new coach!" cried Pierrotin. 

"Have you really got it?" asked the man, laughing, and showing a setof teeth as white and broad as almonds. 

"You old good-for-nothing! It starts to-morrow, I tell you; and I wantat least eighteen passengers for it. "

"Ha, ha! a fine affair; it'll warm up the road, " said the hostler. 

"A coach like that which runs to Beaumont, hey? Flaming! painted redand gold to make Touchard burst with envy! It takes three horses! Ihave bought a mate for Rougeot, and Bichette will go finely inunicorn. Come, harness up!" added Pierrotin, glancing out towards thestreet, and stuffing the tobacco into his clay pipe. "I see a lady andlad over there with packages under their arms; they are coming to theLion d'Argent, for they've turned a deaf ear to the coucous. Tiens, tiens! seems to me I know that lady for an old customer. "

"You've often started empty, and arrived full, " said his porter, stillby way of consolation. 

"But no parcels! Twenty good Gods! What a fate!"

And Pierrotin sat down on one of the huge stone posts which protectedthe walls of the building from the wheels of the coaches; but he didso with an anxious, reflective air that was not habitual with him. 

This conversation, apparently insignificant, had stirred up cruelanxieties which were slumbering in his breast. What could there be totrouble the heart of Pierrotin in a fine new coach? To shine upon "theroad, " to rival the Touchards, to magnify his own line, to carrypassengers who would compliment him on the conveniences due to theprogress of coach-building, instead of having to listen to perpetualcomplaints of his "sabots" (tires of enormous width), --such wasPierrotin's laudable ambition; but, carried away with the desire tooutstrip his comrade on the line, hoping that the latter might someday retire and leave to him alone the transportation to Isle-Adam, hehad gone too far. The coach was indeed ordered from Barry, Breilmann, and Company, coach-builders, who had just substituted square Englishsprings for those called "swan-necks, " and other old-fashioned Frenchcontrivances. But these hard and distrustful manufacturers would onlydeliver over the diligence in return for coin. Not particularlypleased to build a vehicle which would be difficult to sell if itremained upon their hands, these long-headed dealers declined toundertake it at all until Pierrotin had made a preliminary payment oftwo thousand francs. To satisfy this precautionary demand, Pierrotinhad exhausted all his resources and all his credit. His wife, hisfather-in-law, and his friends had bled. This superb diligence he hadbeen to see the evening before at the painter's; all it needed now wasto be set a-rolling, but to make it roll, payment in full must, alas!be made. 

Now, a thousand francs were lacking to Pierrotin, and where to getthem he did not know. He was in debt to the master of the Liond'Argent; he was in danger of his losing his two thousand francsalready paid to the coach-builder, not counting five hundred for themate to Rougeot, and three hundred for new harnesses, on which he hada three-months' credit. Driven by the fury of despair and the madnessof vanity, he had just openly declared that the new coach was to starton the morrow. By offering fifteen hundred francs, instead of the twothousand five hundred still due, he was in hopes that the softenedcarriage-builders would give him his coach. But after a few moments'meditation, his feelings led him to cry out aloud:--

"No! they're dogs! harpies! Suppose I appeal to Monsieur Moreau, thesteward at Presles? he is such a kind man, " thought Pierrotin, struckwith a new idea. "Perhaps he would take my note for six months. "

At this moment a footman in livery, carrying a leather portmanteau andcoming from the Touchard establishment, where he had gone too late tosecure places as far as Chambly, came up and said:--

"Are you Pierrotin?"

"Say on, " replied Pierrotin. 

"If you would wait a quarter of an hour, you could take my master. Ifnot, I'll carry back the portmanteau and try to find some otherconveyance. "

"I'll wait two, three quarters, and throw a little in besides, mylad, " said Pierrotin, eyeing the pretty leather trunk, well buckled, and bearing a brass plate with a coat of arms. 

"Very good; then take this, " said the valet, ridding his shoulder ofthe trunk, which Pierrotin lifted, weighed, and examined. 

"Here, " he said to his porter, "wrap it up carefully in soft hay andput it in the boot. There's no name upon it, " he added. 

"Monseigneur's arms are there, " replied the valet. 

"Monseigneur! Come and take a glass, " said Pierrotin, nodding towardthe Cafe de l'Echiquier, whither he conducted the valet. "Waiter, twoabsinthes!" he said, as he entered. "Who is your master? and where ishe going? I have never seen you before, " said Pierrotin to the valetas they touched glasses. 

"There's a good reason for that, " said the footman. "My master onlygoes into your parts about once a year, and then in his own carriage. He prefers the valley d'Orge, where he has the most beautiful park inthe neighborhood of Paris, a perfect Versailles, a family estate ofwhich he bears the name. Don't you know Monsieur Moreau?"

"The steward of Presles?"

"Yes. Monsieur le Comte is going down to spend a couple of days withhim. "

"Ha! then I'm to carry Monsieur le Comte de Serizy!" cried thecoach-proprietor. 

"Yes, my land, neither more nor less. But listen! here's a specialorder. If you have any of the country neighbors in your coach you arenot to call him Monsieur le comte; he wants to travel 'en cognito, 'and told me to be sure to say he would pay a handsome pourboire if hewas not recognized. "

"So! Has this secret journey anything to do with the affair which PereLeger, the farmer at the Moulineaux, came to Paris the other day tosettle?"

"I don't know, " replied the valet, "but the fat's in the fire. Lastnight I was sent to the stable to order the Daumont carriage to beready to go to Presles at seven this morning. But when seven o'clockcame, Monsieur le comte countermanded it. Augustin, his valet dechambre, attributes the change to the visit of a lady who called lastnight, and again this morning, --he thought she came from the country. "

"Could she have told him anything against Monsieur Moreau?--the bestof men, the most honest of men, a king of men, hey! He might have madea deal more than he has out of his position, if he'd chosen; I cantell you that. "

"Then he was foolish, " answered the valet, sententiously. 

"Is Monsieur le Serizy going to live at Presles at last?" askedPierrotin; "for you know they have just repaired and refurnished thechateau. Do you think it is true he has already spent two hundredthousand francs upon it?"

"If you or I had half what he has spent upon it, you and I would berich bourgeois. If Madame la comtesse goes there--ha! I tell you what!no more ease and comfort for the Moreaus, " said the valet, with an airof mystery. 

"He's a worthy man, Monsieur Moreau, " remarked Pierrotin, thinking ofthe thousand francs he wanted to get from the steward. "He is a manwho makes others work, but he doesn't cheapen what they do; and hegets all he can out of the land--for his master. Honest man! He oftencomes to Paris and gives me a good fee: he has lots of errands for meto do in Paris; sometimes three or four packages a day, --either frommonsieur or madame. My bill for cartage alone comes to fifty francs amonth, more or less. If madame does set up to be somebody, she's fondof her children; and it is I who fetch them from school and take themback; and each time she gives me five francs, --a real great ladycouldn't do better than that. And every time I have any one in thecoach belonging to them or going to see them, I'm allowed to drive upto the chateau, --that's all right, isn't it?"

"They say Monsieur Moreau wasn't worth three thousand francs whenMonsieur le comte made him steward of Presles, " said the valet. 

"Well, since 1806, there's seventeen years, and the man ought to havemade something at any rate. "

"True, " said the valet, nodding. "Anyway, masters are very annoying;and I hope, for Moreau's sake, that he has made butter for his bread. "

"I have often been to your house in the rue de la Chaussee d'Antin tocarry baskets of game, " said Pierrotin, "but I've never had theadvantage, so far of seeing either monsieur or madame. "

"Monsieur le comte is a good man, " said the footman, confidentially. "But if he insists on your helping to keep up his cognito there'ssomething in the wind. At any rate, so we think at the house; or else, why should he countermand the Daumont, --why travel in a coucou? A peerof France might afford to hire a cabriolet to himself, one wouldthink. "

"A cabriolet would cost him forty francs to go there and back; for letme tell you, if you don't know it, that road was only made forsquirrels, --up-hill and down, down-hill and up!" said Pierrotin. "Peerof France or bourgeois, they are all looking after the main chance, and saving their money. If this journey concerns Monsieur Moreau, faith, I'd be sorry any harm should come to him! Twenty good Gods!hadn't I better find some way of warning him?--for he's a truly goodman, a kind man, a king of men, hey!"

"Pooh! Monsieur le comte thinks everything of Monsieur Moreau, "replied the valet. "But let me give you a bit of good advice. Everyman for himself in this world. We have enough to do to take care ofourselves. Do what Monsieur le comte asks you to do, and all the morebecause there's no trifling with him. Besides, to tell the truth, thecount is generous. If you oblige him so far, " said the valet, pointinghalf-way down his little finger, "he'll send you on as far as that, "stretching out his arm to its full length. 

This wise reflection, and the action that enforced it, had the effect, coming from a man who stood as high as second valet to the Comte deSerizy, of cooling the ardor of Pierrotin for the steward of Presles. 

"Well, adieu, Monsieur Pierrotin, " said the valet. 

A glance rapidly cast on the life of the Comte de Serizy, and on thatof his steward, is here necessary in order to fully understand thelittle drama now about to take place in Pierrotin's vehicle. 

 CHAPTER II

 THE STEWARD IN DANGER

Monsieur Huguet de Serisy descends in a direct line from the famouspresident Huguet, ennobled under Francois I. 

This family bears: party per pale or and sable, an orle counterchangedand two lozenges counterchanged, with: "i, semper melius eris, "--amotto which, together with the two distaffs taken as supporters, proves the modesty of the burgher families in the days when the Ordersheld their allotted places in the State; and the naivete of ourancient customs by the pun on "eris, " which word, combined with the"i" at the beginning and the final "s" in "melius, " forms the name(Serisy) of the estate from which the family take their title. 

The father of the present count was president of a parliament beforethe Revolution. He himself a councillor of State at the Grand Councilof 1787, when he was only twenty-two years of age, was even thendistinguished for his admirable memoranda on delicate diplomaticmatters. He did not emigrate during the Revolution, and spent thatperiod on his estate of Serizy near Arpajon, where the respect inwhich his father was held protected him from all danger. Afterspending several years in taking care of the old president, who diedin 1794, he was elected about that time to the Council of the FiveHundred, and accepted those legislative functions to divert his mindfrom his grief. After the 18th Brumaire, Monsieur de Serizy became, like so many other of the old parliamentary families, an object of theFirst Consul's blandishment. He was appointed to the Council of State, and received one of the most disorganized departments of thegovernment to reconstruct. This scion of an old historical familyproved to be a very active wheel in the grand and magnificentorganization which we owe to Napoleon. 

The councillor of State was soon called from his particularadministration to a ministry. Created count and senator by theEmperor, he was made proconsul to two kingdoms in succession. In 1806, when forty years of age, he married the sister of the ci-devantMarquis de Ronquerolles, the widow at twenty of Gaubert, one of themost illustrious of the Republican generals, who left her his wholeproperty. This marriage, a suitable one in point of rank, doubled thealready considerable fortune of the Comte de Serizy, who becamethrough his wife the brother-in-law of the ci-devant Marquis deRouvre, made count and chamberlain by the Emperor. 

In 1814, weary with constant toil, the Comte de Serizy, whoseshattered health required rest, resigned all his posts, left thedepartment at the head of which the Emperor had placed him, and cameto Paris, where Napoleon was compelled by the evidence of his eyes toadmit that the count's illness was a valid excuse, though at firstthat _unfatiguable_ master, who gave no heed to the fatigue of others, was disposed to consider Monsieur de Serizy's action as a defection. Though the senator was never in disgrace, he was supposed to havereason to complain of Napoleon. Consequently, when the Bourbonsreturned, Louis XVIII. , whom Monsieur de Serizy held to be hislegitimate sovereign, treated the senator, now a peer of France, withthe utmost confidence, placed him in charge of his private affairs, and appointed him one of his cabinet ministers. On the 20th of March, Monsieur de Serizy did not go to Ghent. He informed Napoleon that heremained faithful to the house of Bourbon; would not accept hispeerage during the Hundred Days, and passed that period on his estateat Serizy. 

After the second fall of the Emperor, he became once more aprivy-councillor, was appointed vice-president of the Council of State, and liquidator, on behalf of France, of claims and indemnities demandedby foreign powers. Without personal assumption, without ambition even, he possessed great influence in public affairs. Nothing of importancewas done without consulting him; but he never went to court, and wasseldom seen in his own salons. This noble life, devoting itself fromits very beginning to work, had ended by becoming a life of incessanttoil. The count rose at all seasons by four o'clock in the morning, and worked till mid-day, attended to his functions as peer of Franceand vice-president of the Council of State in the afternoons, and wentto bed at nine o'clock. In recognition of such labor, the King hadmade him a knight of his various Orders. Monsieur de Serizy had longworn the grand cross of the Legion of honor; he also had the orders ofthe Golden Fleece, of Saint-Andrew of Russia, that of the PrussianEagle, and nearly all the lesser Orders of the courts of Europe. Noman was less obvious, or more useful in the political world than he. It is easy to understand that the world's honor, the fuss and feathersof public favor, the glories of success were indifferent to a man ofthis stamp; but no one, unless a priest, ever comes to life of thiskind without some serious underlying reason. His conduct had itscause, and a cruel one. 

In love with his wife before he married her, this passion had lastedthrough all the secret unhappiness of his marriage with a widow, --awoman mistress of herself before as well as after her second marriage, and who used her liberty all the more freely because her husbandtreated her with the indulgence of a mother for a spoilt child. Hisconstant toil served him as shield and buckler against pangs of heartwhich he silenced with the care that diplomatists give to the keepingof secrets. He knew, moreover, how ridiculous was jealousy in the eyesof a society that would never have believed in the conjugal passion ofan old statesman. How happened it that from the earliest days of hismarriage his wife so fascinated him? Why did he suffer withoutresistance? How was it that he dared not resist? Why did he let theyears go by and still hope on? By what means did this young and prettyand clever woman hold him in bondage?

The answer to all these questions would require a long history, whichwould injure our present tale. Let us only remark here that theconstant toil and grief of the count had unfortunately contributed nota little to deprive him of personal advantages very necessary to a manwho attempts to struggle against dangerous comparisons. In fact, themost cruel of the count's secret sorrows was that of causingrepugnance to his wife by a malady of the skin resulting solely fromexcessive labor. Kind, and always considerate of the countess, heallowed her to be mistress of herself and her home. She received allParis; she went into the country; she returned from it precisely asthough she were still a widow. He took care of her fortune andsupplied her luxury as a steward might have done. The countess had theutmost respect for her husband. She even admired his turn of mind; sheknew how to make him happy by approbation; she could do what shepleased with him by simply going to his study and talking for an hourwith him. Like the great seigneurs of the olden time, the countprotected his wife so loyally that a single word of disrespect said ofher would have been to him an unpardonable injury. The world admiredhim for this; and Madame de Serizy owed much to it. Any other woman, even though she came of a family as distinguished as the Ronquerolles, might have found herself degraded in public opinion. The countess wasungrateful, but she mingled a charm with her ingratitude. From time totime she shed a balm upon the wounds of her husband's heart. 

Let us now explain the meaning of this sudden journey, and theincognito maintained by a minister of State. 

A rich farmer of Beaumont-sur-Oise, named Leger, leased and cultivateda farm, the fields of which projected into and greatly injured themagnificent estate of the Comte de Serizy, called Presles. This farmbelonged to a burgher of Beaumont-sur-Oise, named Margueron. The leasemade to Leger in 1799, at a time when the great advance of agriculturewas not foreseen, was about to expire, and the owner of the farmrefused all offers from Leger to renew the lease. For some time past, Monsieur de Serizy, wishing to rid himself of the annoyances and pettydisputes caused by the inclosure of these fields within his land, haddesired to buy the farm, having heard that Monsieur Margueron's chiefambition was to have his only son, then a mere tax-gatherer, madespecial collector of finances at Beaumont. The farmer, who knew hecould sell the fields piecemeal to the count at a high price, wasready to pay Margueron even more than he expected from the count. 

Thus matters stood when, two days earlier than that of which we write, Monsieur de Serizy, anxious to end the matter, sent for his notary, Alexandre Crottat, and his lawyer, Derville, to examine into all thecircumstances of the affair. Though Derville and Crottat threw somedoubt on the zeal of the count's steward (a disturbing letter fromwhom had led to the consultation), Monsieur de Serizy defended Moreau, who, he said, had served him faithfully for seventeen years. 

"Very well!" said Derville, "then I advise your Excellency to go toPresles yourself, and invite this Margueron to dinner. Crottat willsend his head-clerk with a deed of sale drawn up, leaving only thenecessary lines for description of property and titles in blank. YourExcellency should take with you part of the purchase money in a checkon the Bank of France, not forgetting the appointment of the son tothe collectorship. If you don't settle the thing at once that farmwill slip through your fingers. You don't know, Monsieur le comte, thetrickery of these peasants. Peasants against diplomat, and thediplomat succumbs. "

Crottat agreed in this advice, which the count, if we may judge by thevalet's statements to Pierrotin, had adopted. The preceding evening hehad sent Moreau a line by the diligence to Beaumont, telling him toinvite Margueron to dinner in order that they might then and thereclose the purchase of the farm of Moulineaux. 

Before this matter came up, the count had already ordered the chateauof Presles to be restored and refurnished, and for the last year, Grindot, an architect then in fashion, was in the habit of making aweekly visit. So, while concluding his purchase of the farm, Monsieurde Serizy also intended to examine the work of restoration and theeffect of the new furniture. He intended all this to be a surprise tohis wife when he brought her to Presles, and with this idea in hismind, he had put some personal pride and self-love into the work. Howcame it therefore that the count, who intended in the evening to driveto Presles openly in his own carriage, should be starting early thenext morning incognito in Pierrotin's coucou?

Here a few words on the life of the steward Moreau becomeindispensable. 

Moreau, steward of the state of Presles, was the son of a provincialattorney who became during the Revolution syndic-attorney atVersailles. In that position, Moreau the father had been the means ofalmost saving both the lives and property of the Serizys, father andson. Citizen Moreau belonged to the Danton party; Robespierre, implacable in his hatreds, pursued him, discovered him, and finallyhad him executed at Versailles. Moreau the son, heir to the doctrinesand friendships of his father, was concerned in one of theconspiracies which assailed the First Consul on his accession topower. At this crisis, Monsieur de Serizy, anxious to pay his debt ofgratitude, enabled Moreau, lying under sentence of death, to make hisescape; in 1804 he asked for his pardon, obtained it, offered himfirst a place in his government office, and finally took him asprivate secretary for his own affairs. 

Some time after the marriage of his patron Moreau fell in love withthe countess's waiting-woman and married her. To avoid the annoyancesof the false position in which this marriage placed him (more than oneexample of which could be seen at the imperial court), Moreau askedthe count to give him the management of the Presles estate, where hiswife could play the lady in a country region, and neither of themwould be made to suffer from wounded self-love. The count wanted atrustworthy man at Presles, for his wife preferred Serizy, an estateonly fifteen miles from Paris. For three or four years Moreau had heldthe key of the count's affairs; he was intelligent, and before theRevolution he had studied law in his father's office; so Monsieur deSerizy granted his request. 

"You can never advance in life, " he said to Moreau, "for you havebroken your neck; but you can be happy, and I will take care that youare so. "

He gave Moreau a salary of three thousand francs and his residence ina charming lodge near the chateau, all the wood he needed from thetimber that was cut on the estate, oats, hay, and straw for twohorses, and a right to whatever he wanted of the produce of thegardens. A sub-prefect is not as well provided for. 

During the first eight years of his stewardship, Moreau managed theestate conscientiously; he took an interest in it. The count, comingdown now and then to examine the property, pass judgment on what hadbeen done, and decide on new purchases, was struck with Moreau'sevident loyalty, and showed his satisfaction by liberal gifts. 

But after the birth of Moreau's third child, a daughter, he felthimself so securely settled in all his comforts at Presles that heceased to attribute to Monsieur de Serizy those enormous advantages. About the year 1816, the steward, who until then had only taken whathe needed for his own use from the estate, accepted a sum oftwenty-five thousand francs from a wood-merchant as an inducement tolease to the latter, for twelve years, the cutting of all the timber. Moreau argued this: he could have no pension; he was the father of afamily; the count really owed him that sum as a gift after ten years'management; already the legitimate possessor of sixty thousand francsin savings, if he added this sum to that, he could buy a farm worth ahundred and twenty-five thousand francs in Champagne, a township justabove Isle-Adam, on the right bank of the Oise. Political eventsprevented both the count and the neighboring country-people frombecoming aware of this investment, which was made in the name ofMadame Moreau, who was understood to have inherited property from anaunt of her father. 

As soon as the steward had tasted the delightful fruit of thepossession of the property, he began, all the while maintaining towardthe world an appearance of the utmost integrity, to lose no occasionof increasing his fortune clandestinely; the interests of his threechildren served as a poultice to the wounds of his honor. Nevertheless, we ought in justice to say that while he accepted casksof wine, and took care of himself in all the purchases that he madefor the count, yet according to the terms of the Code he remained anhonest man, and no proof could have been found to justify anaccusation against him. According to the jurisprudence of the leastthieving cook in Paris, he shared with the count in the profits due tohis own capable management. This manner of swelling his fortune wassimply a case of conscience, that was all. Alert, and thoroughlyunderstanding the count's interests, Moreau watched for opportunitiesto make good purchases all the more eagerly, because he gained alarger percentage on them. Presles returned a revenue of seventythousand francs net. It was a saying of the country-side for a circuitof thirty miles:--

"Monsieur de Serizy has a second self in Moreau. "

Being a prudent man, Moreau invested yearly, after 1817, both hisprofits and his salary on the Grand Livre, piling up his heap with theutmost secrecy. He often refused proposals on the plea of want ofmoney; and he played the poor man so successfully with the count thatthe latter gave him the means to send both his sons to the schoolHenri IV. At the present moment Moreau was worth one hundred andtwenty thousand francs of capital invested in the Consolidated thirds, now paying five per cent, and quoted at eighty francs. These carefullyhidden one hundred and twenty thousand francs, and his farm atChampagne, enlarged by subsequent purchases, amounted to a fortune ofabout two hundred and eighty thousand francs, giving him an income ofsome sixteen thousand. 

Such was the position of the steward at the time when the Comte deSerizy desired to purchase the farm of Moulineaux, --the ownership ofwhich was indispensable to his comfort. This farm consisted ofninety-six parcels of land bordering the estate of Presles, andfrequently running into it, producing the most annoying discussionsas to the trimming of hedges and ditches and the cutting of trees. Any other than a cabinet minister would probably have had scores oflawsuits on his hands. Pere Leger only wished to buy the property inorder to sell to the count at a handsome advance. In order to securethe exorbitant sum on which his mind was set, the farmer had longendeavored to come to an understanding with Moreau. Impelled bycircumstances, he had, only three days before this critical Sunday, had a talk with the steward in the open field, and proved to himclearly that he (Moreau) could make the count invest his money at twoand a half per cent, and thus appear to serve his patron's interests, while he himself pocketed forty thousand francs which Leger offered himto bring about the transaction. 

"I tell you what, " said the steward to his wife, as he went to bedthat night, "if I make fifty thousand francs out of the Moulineauxaffair, --and I certainly shall, for the count will give me tenthousand as a fee, --we'll retire to Isle-Adam and live in the Pavillonde Nogent. "

This "pavillon" was a charming place, originally built by the Princede Conti for a mistress, and in it every convenience and luxury hadbeen placed. 

"That will suit me, " said his wife. "The Dutchman who lives there hasput it in good order, and now that he is obliged to return to India, he would probably let us have it for thirty thousand francs. "

"We shall be close to Champagne, " said Moreau. "I am in hopes ofbuying the farm and mill of Mours for a hundred thousand francs. Thatwould give us ten thousand a year in rentals. Nogent is one of themost delightful residences in the valley; and we should still have anincome of ten thousand from the Grand-Livre. "

"But why don't you ask for the post of juge-de-paix at Isle-Adam? Thatwould give us influence, and fifteen hundred a year salary. "

"Well, I did think of it. "

With these plans in mind, Moreau, as soon as he heard from the countthat he was coming to Presles, and wished him to invite Margueron todinner on Saturday, sent off an express to the count's head-valet, inclosing a letter to his master, which the messenger failed todeliver before Monsieur de Serizy retired at his usually early hour. Augustin, however, placed it, according to custom in such cases, onhis master's desk. In this letter Moreau begged the count not totrouble himself to come down, but to trust entirely to him. He addedthat Margueron was no longer willing to sell the whole in one block, and talked of cutting the farm up into a number of smaller lots. Itwas necessary to circumvent this plan, and perhaps, added Moreau, itmight be best to employ a third party to make the purchase. 

Everybody has enemies in this life. Now the steward and his wife hadwounded the feelings of a retired army officer, Monsieur de Reybert, and his wife, who were living near Presles. From speeches likepin-pricks, matters had advanced to dagger-thrusts. Monsieur deReybert breathed vengeance. He was determined to make Moreau lose hissituation and gain it himself. The two ideas were twins. Thus theproceedings of the steward, spied upon for two years, were no secretto Reybert. The same conveyance that took Moreau's letter to the countconveyed Madame de Reybert, whom her husband despatched to Paris. There she asked with such earnestness to see the count that althoughshe was sent away at nine o'clock, he having then gone to bed, she wasushered into his study the next morning at seven. 

"Monsieur, " she said to the cabinet-minister, "we are incapable, myhusband and I, of writing anonymous letters, therefore I have come tosee you in person. I am Madame de Reybert, nee de Corroy. My husbandis a retired officer, with a pension of six hundred francs, and welive at Presles, where your steward has offered us insult afterinsult, although we are persons of good station. Monsieur de Reybert, who is not an intriguing man, far from it, is a captain of artillery, retired in 1816, having served twenty years, --always at a distancefrom the Emperor, Monsieur le comte. You know of course how difficultit is for soldiers who are not under the eye of their master to obtainpromotion, --not counting that the integrity and frankness of Monsieurde Reybert were displeasing to his superiors. My husband has watchedyour steward for the last three years, being aware of his dishonestyand intending to have him lose his place. We are, as you see, quitefrank with you. Moreau has made us his enemies, and we have watchedhim. I have come to tell you that you are being tricked in thepurchase of the Moulineaux farm. They mean to get an extra hundredthousand francs out of you, which are to be divided between thenotary, the farmer Leger, and Moreau. You have written Moreau toinvite Margueron, and you are going to Presles to-day; but Margueronwill be ill, and Leger is so certain of buying the farm that he is nowin Paris to draw the money. If we have enlightened you as to what isgoing on, and if you want an upright steward you will take my husband;though noble, he will serve you as he has served the State. Yoursteward has made a fortune of two hundred and fifty thousand francsout of his place; he is not to be pitied therefore. "

The count thanked Madame de Reybert coldly, bestowing upon her theholy-water of courts, for he despised backbiting; but for all that, heremembered Derville's doubts, and felt inwardly shaken. Just then hesaw his steward's letter and read it. In its assurances of devotionand its respectful reproaches for the distrust implied in wishing tonegotiate the purchase for himself, he read the truth. 

"Corruption has come to him with fortune, --as it always does!" he saidto himself. 

The count then made several inquiries of Madame de Reybert, less toobtain information than to gain time to observe her; and he wrote ashort note to his notary telling him not to send his head-clerk toPresles as requested, but to come there himself in time for dinner. 

"Though Monsieur le comte, " said Madame de Reybert in conclusion, "mayhave judged me unfavorably for the step I have taken unknown to myhusband, he ought to be convinced that we have obtained thisinformation about his steward in a natural and honorable manner; themost sensitive conscience cannot take exception to it. "

So saying, Madame de Reybert, nee de Corroy, stood erect as apike-staff. She presented to the rapid investigation of the count aface seamed with the small-pox like a colander with holes, a flat, spare figure, two light and eager eyes, fair hair plastered down uponan anxious forehead, a small drawn-bonnet of faded green taffetas linedwith pink, a white gown with violet spots, and leather shoes. Thecount recognized the wife of some poor, half-pay captain, a puritan, subscribing no doubt to the "Courrier Francais, " earnest in virtue, but aware of the comfort of a good situation and eagerly coveting it. 

"You say your husband has a pension of six hundred francs, " he said, replying to his own thoughts, and not to the remark Madame de Reyberthad just made. 

"Yes, monsieur. "

"You were born a Corroy?"

"Yes, monsieur, --a noble family of Metz, where my husband belongs. "

"In what regiment did Monsieur de Reybert serve?"

"The 7th artillery. "

"Good!" said the count, writing down the number. 

He had thought at one time of giving the management of the estate tosome retired army officer, about whom he could obtain exactinformation from the minister of war. 

"Madame, " he resumed, ringing for his valet, "return to Presles, thisafternoon with my notary, who is going down there for dinner, and towhom I have recommended you. Here is his address. I am going myselfsecretly to Presles, and will send for Monsieur de Reybert to come andspeak to me. "

It will thus be seen that Monsieur de Serizy's journey by a publicconveyance, and the injunction conveyed by the valet to conceal hisname and rank had not unnecessarily alarmed Pierrotin. That worthy hadjust forebodings of a danger which was about to swoop down upon one ofhis best customers. 

 CHAPTER III

 THE TRAVELLERS

As Pierrotin issued from the Cafe de l'Echiquier, after treating thevalet, he saw in the gate-way of the Lion d'Argent the lady and theyoung man in whom his perspicacity at once detected customers, for thelady with outstretched neck and anxious face was evidently looking forhim. She was dressed in a black-silk gown that was dyed, a brownbonnet, an old French cashmere shawl, raw-silk stockings, and lowshoes; and in her hand she carried a straw bag and a blue umbrella. This woman, who had once been beautiful, seemed to be about fortyyears of age; but her blue eyes, deprived of the fire which happinessputs there, told plainly that she had long renounced the world. Herdress, as well as her whole air and demeanor, indicated a motherwholly devoted to her household and her son. If the strings of herbonnet were faded, the shape betrayed that it was several years old. The shawl was fastened by a broken needle converted into a pin by abead of sealing-wax. She was waiting impatiently for Pierrotin, wishing to recommend to his special care her son, who was doubtlesstravelling for the first time, and with whom she had come to thecoach-office as much from doubt of his ability as from maternalaffection. 

This mother was in every way completed by the son, so that the sonwould not be understood without the mother. If the mother condemnedherself to mended gloves, the son wore an olive-green coat withsleeves too short for him, proving that he had grown, and might growstill more, like other adults of eighteen or nineteen years of age. The blue trousers, mended by his mother, presented to the eye abrighter patch of color when the coat-tails maliciously parted behindhim. 

"Don't rub your gloves that way, you'll spoil them, " she was saying asPierrotin appeared. "Is this the conductor? Ah! Pierrotin, is it you?"she exclaimed, leaving her son and taking the coachman apart a fewsteps. 

"I hope you're well, Madame Clapart, " he replied, with an air thatexpressed both respect and familiarity. 

"Yes, Pierrotin, very well. Please take good care of my Oscar; he istravelling alone for the first time. "

"Oh! so he is going alone to Monsieur Moreau!" cried Pierrotin, forthe purpose of finding out whether he were really going there. 

"Yes, " said the mother. 

"Then Madame Moreau is willing?" returned Pierrotin, with a sly look. 

"Ah!" said the mother, "it will not be all roses for him, poor child!But his future absolutely requires that I should send him. "

This answer struck Pierrotin, who hesitated to confide his fears forthe steward to Madame Clapart, while she, on her part, was afraid ofinjuring her boy if she asked Pierrotin for a care which might havetransformed him into a mentor. During this short deliberation, whichwas ostensibly covered by a few phrases as to the weather, thejourney, and the stopping-places along the road, we will ourselvesexplain what were the ties that united Madame Clapart with Pierrotin, and authorized the two confidential remarks which they have justexchanged. 

Often--that is to say, three or four times a month--Pierrotin, on hisway to Paris, would find the steward on the road near La Cave. As soonas the vehicle came up, Moreau would sign to a gardener, who, withPierrotin's help, would put upon the coach either one or two basketscontaining the fruits and vegetables of the season, chickens, eggs, butter, and game. The steward always paid the carriage and Pierrotin'sfee, adding the money necessary to pay the toll at the barriere, ifthe baskets contained anything dutiable. These baskets, hampers, orpackages, were never directed to any one. On the first occasion, whichserved for all others, the steward had given Madame Clapart's addressby word of mouth to the discreet Pierrotin, requesting him never todeliver to others the precious packages. Pierrotin, impressed with theidea of an intrigue between the steward and some pretty girl, had goneas directed to number 7 rue de la Cerisaie, in the Arsenal quarter, and had there found the Madame Clapart just portrayed, instead of theyoung and beautiful creature he expected to find. 

The drivers of public conveyances and carriers are called by theirbusiness to enter many homes, and to be cognizant of many secrets; butsocial accident, that sub-providence, having willed that they bewithout education and devoid of the talent of observation, it followsthat they are not dangerous. Nevertheless, at the end of a few months, Pierrotin was puzzled to explain the exact relations of MonsieurMoreau and Madame Clapart from what he saw of the household in the ruede la Cerisaie. Though lodgings were not dear at that time in theArsenal quarter, Madame Clapart lived on a third floor at the end of acourt-yard, in a house which was formerly that of a great family, inthe days when the higher nobility of the kingdom lived on the ancientsite of the Palais des Tournelles and the hotel Saint-Paul. Toward theend of the sixteenth century, the great seigneurs divided amongthemselves these vast spaces, once occupied by the gardens of thekings of France, as indicated by the present names of the streets, --Cerisaie, Beautreillis, des Lions, etc. Madame Clapart's apartment, which was panelled throughout with ancient carvings, consisted ofthree connecting rooms, a dining-room, salon, and bedroom. Above itwas the kitchen, and a bedroom for Oscar. Opposite to the entrance, onwhat is called in Paris "le carre, "--that is, the square landing, --wasthe door of a back room, opening, on every floor, into a sort of towerbuilt of rough stone, in which was also the well for the staircase. This was the room in which Moreau slept whenever he went to Paris. 

Pierrotin had seen in the first room, where he deposited the hampers, six wooden chairs with straw seats, a table, and a sideboard; at thewindows, discolored curtains. Later, when he entered the salon, henoticed some old Empire furniture, now shabby; but only as much as allproprietors exact to secure their rent. Pierrotin judged of thebedroom by the salon and dining-room. The wood-work, painted coarselyof a reddish white, which thickened and blurred the mouldings andfigurines, far from being ornamental, was distressing to the eye. Thefloors, never waxed, were of that gray tone we see in boarding-schools. When Pierrotin came upon Monsieur and Madame Clapart at their mealshe saw that their china, glass, and all other little articlesbetrayed the utmost poverty; and yet, though the chipped and mendeddishes and tureens were those of the poorest families and provokedpity, the forks and spoons were of silver. 

Monsieur Clapart, clothed in a shabby surtout, his feet in brokenslippers, always wore green spectacles, and exhibited, whenever heremoved his shabby cap of a bygone period, a pointed skull, from thetop of which trailed a few dirty filaments which even a poet couldscarcely call hair. This man, of wan complexion, seemed timorous, butwithal tyrannical. 

In this dreary apartment, which faced the north and had no otheroutlook than to a vine on the opposite wall and a well in the cornerof the yard, Madame Clapart bore herself with the airs of a queen, andmoved like a woman unaccustomed to go anywhere on foot. Often, whilethanking Pierrotin, she gave him glances which would have touched topity an intelligent observer; from time to time she would slip atwelve-sous piece into his hand, and then her voice was charming. Pierrotin had never seen Oscar, for the reason that the boy was alwaysin school at the time his business took him to the house. 

Here is the sad story which Pierrotin could never have discovered, even by asking for information, as he sometimes did, from the portressof the house; for that individual knew nothing beyond the fact thatthe Claparts paid a rent of two hundred and fifty francs a year, hadno servant but a charwoman who came daily for a few hours in themorning, that Madame Clapart did some of her smaller washing herself, and paid the postage on her letters daily, being apparently unable tolet the sum accumulate. 

There does not exist, or rather, there seldom exists, a criminal whois wholly criminal. Neither do we ever meet with a dishonest naturewhich is completely dishonest. It is possible for a man to cheat hismaster to his own advantage, or rake in for himself alone all the hayin the manger, but, even while laying up capital by actions more orless illicit, there are few men who never do good ones. If only fromself-love, curiosity, or by way of variety, or by chance, every manhas his moment of beneficence; he may call it his error, he may neverdo it again, but he sacrifices to Goodness, as the most surly mansacrifices to the Graces once or twice in his life. If Moreau's faultscan ever be excused, it might be on the score of his persistentkindness in succoring a woman of whose favors he had once been proud, and in whose house he was hidden when in peril of his life. 

This woman, celebrated under the Directory for her liaison with one ofthe five kings of that reign, married, through that all-powerfulprotection, a purveyor who was making his millions out of thegovernment, and whom Napoleon ruined in 1802. This man, named Husson, became insane through his sudden fall from opulence to poverty; heflung himself into the Seine, leaving the beautiful Madame Hussonpregnant. Moreau, very intimately allied with Madame Husson, was atthat time condemned to death; he was unable therefore to marry thewidow, being forced to leave France. Madame Husson, then twenty-twoyears old, married in her deep distress a government clerk namedClapart, aged twenty-seven, who was said to be a rising man. At thatperiod of our history, government clerks were apt to become persons ofimportance; for Napoleon was ever on the lookout for capacity. ButClapart, though endowed by nature with a certain coarse beauty, provedto have no intelligence. Thinking Madame Husson very rich, he feigneda great passion for her, and was simply saddled with the impossibilityof satisfying either then or in the future the wants she had acquiredin a life of opulence. He filled, very poorly, a place in the Treasurythat gave him a salary of eighteen hundred francs; which was all thenew household had to live on. When Moreau returned to France as thesecretary of the Comte de Serizy he heard of Madame Husson's pitiablecondition, and he was able, before his own marriage, to get her anappointment as head-waiting-woman to Madame Mere, the Emperor'smother. But in spite of that powerful protection Clapart was neverpromoted; his incapacity was too apparent. 

Ruined in 1815 by the fall of the Empire, the brilliant Aspasia of theDirectory had no other resources than Clapart's salary of twelvehundred francs from a clerkship obtained for him through the Comte deSerizy. Moreau, the only protector of a woman whom he had known inpossession of millions, obtained a half-scholarship for her son, OscarHusson, at the school of Henri IV. ; and he sent her regularly, byPierrotin, such supplies from the estate at Presles as he coulddecently offer to a household in distress. 

Oscar was the whole life and all the future of his mother. The poorwoman could now be reproached with no other fault than her exaggeratedtenderness for her boy, --the bete-noire of his step-father. Oscar was, unfortunately, endowed by nature with a foolishness his mother did notperceive, in spite of the step-father's sarcasms. This foolishness--or, to speak more specifically, this overweening conceit--so troubledMonsieur Moreau that he begged Madame Clapart to send the boy down tohim for a month that he might study his character, and find out whatcareer he was fit for. Moreau was really thinking of some dayproposing Oscar to the count as his successor. 

But to give to the devil and to God what respectively belongs to them, perhaps it would be well to show the causes of Oscar Husson's sillyself-conceit, premising that he was born in the household of MadameMere. During his early childhood his eyes were dazzled by imperialsplendors. His pliant imagination retained the impression of thosegorgeous scenes, and nursed the images of a golden time of pleasure inhopes of recovering them. The natural boastfulness of school-boys(possessed of a desire to outshine their mates) resting on thesememories of his childhood was developed in him beyond all measure. Itmay also have been that his mother at home dwelt too fondly on thedays when she herself was a queen in Directorial Paris. At any rate, Oscar, who was now leaving school, had been made to bear manyhumiliations which the paying pupils put upon those who holdscholarships, unless the scholars are able to impose respect bysuperior physical ability. 

This mixture of former splendor now departed, of beauty gone, of blindmaternal love, of sufferings heroically borne, made the mother one ofthose pathetic figures which catch the eye of many an observer inParis. 

Incapable, naturally, of understanding the real attachment of Moreauto this woman, or that of the woman for the man she had saved in 1797, now her only friend, Pierrotin did not think it best to communicatethe suspicion that had entered his head as to some danger which wasthreatening Moreau. The valet's speech, "We have enough to do in thisworld to look after ourselves, " returned to his mind, and with it camethat sentiment of obedience to what he called the "chefs de file, "--the front-rank men in war, and men of rank in peace. Besides, just nowPierrotin's head was as full of his own stings as there are five-francpieces in a thousand francs. So that the "Very good, madame, ""Certainly, madame, " with which he replied to the poor mother, to whoma trip of twenty miles appeared a journey, showed plainly that hedesired to get away from her useless and prolix instructions. 

"You will be sure to place the packages so that they cannot get wet ifthe weather should happen to change. "

"I've a hood, " replied Pierrotin. "Besides, see, madame, with whatcare they are being placed. "

"Oscar, don't stay more than two weeks, no matter how much they mayask you, " continued Madame Clapart, returning to her son. "You can'tplease Madame Moreau, whatever you do; besides, you must be home bythe end of September. We are to go to Belleville, you know, to youruncle Cardot. "

"Yes, mamma. "

"Above all, " she said, in a low voice, "be sure never to speak aboutservants; keep thinking all the time that Madame Moreau was once awaiting-maid. "

"Yes, mamma. "

Oscar, like all youths whose vanity is excessively ticklish, seemedannoyed at being lectured on the threshold of the Lion d'Argent. 

"Well, now good-bye, mamma. We shall start soon; there's the horse allharnessed. "

The mother, forgetting that she was in the open street, embraced herOscar, and said, smiling, as she took a little roll from her basket:--

"Tiens! you were forgetting your roll and the chocolate! My child, once more, I repeat, don't take anything at the inns; they'd make youpay for the slightest thing ten times what it is worth. "

Oscar would fain have seen his mother farther off as she stuffed thebread and chocolate into his pocket. The scene had two witnesses, --twoyoung men a few years older than Oscar, better dressed than he, without a mother hanging on to them, whose actions, dress, and waysall betokened that complete independence which is the one desire of alad still tied to his mother's apron-strings. 

"He said _mamma_!" cried one of the new-comers, laughing. 

The words reached Oscar's ears and drove him to say, "Good-bye, mother!" in a tone of terrible impatience. 

Let us admit that Madame Clapart spoke too loudly, and seemed to wishto show to those around them her tenderness for the boy. 

"What is the matter with you, Oscar?" asked the poor hurt woman. "Idon't know what to make of you, " she added in a severe tone, fancyingherself able to inspire him with respect, --a great mistake made bythose who spoil their children. "Listen, my Oscar, " she said, resumingat once her tender voice, "you have a propensity to talk, and to tellall you know, and all that you don't know; and you do it to show off, with the foolish vanity of a mere lad. Now, I repeat, endeavor to keepyour tongue in check. You are not sufficiently advanced in life, mytreasure, to be able to judge of the persons with whom you may bethrown; and there is nothing more dangerous than to talk in publicconveyances. Besides, in a diligence well-bred persons always keepsilence. "

The two young men, who seemed to have walked to the farther end of theestablishment, here returned, making their boot-heels tap upon thepaved passage of the porte-cochere. They might have heard the whole ofthis maternal homily. So, in order to rid himself of his mother, Oscarhad recourse to an heroic measure, which proved how vanity stimulatesthe intellect. 

"Mamma, " he said, "you are standing in a draught, and you may takecold. Besides, I am going to get into the coach. "

The lad must have touched some tender spot, for his mother caught himto her bosom, kissed him as if he were starting upon a long journey, and went with him to the vehicle with tears in her eyes. 

"Don't forget to give five francs to the servants when you come away, "she said; "write me three times at least during the fifteen days;behave properly, and remember all that I have told you. You have linenenough; don't send any to the wash. And above all, remember MonsieurMoreau's kindness; mind him as you would a father, and follow hisadvice. "

As he got into the coach, Oscar's blue woollen stockings becamevisible, through the action of his trousers which drew up suddenly, also the new patch in the said trousers was seen, through the partingof his coat-tails. The smiles of the two young men, on whom thesesigns of an honorable indigence were not lost, were so many freshwounds to the lad's vanity. 

"The first place was engaged for Oscar, " said the mother to Pierrotin. "Take the back seat, " she said to the boy, looking fondly at him witha loving smile. 

Oh! how Oscar regretted that trouble and sorrow had destroyed hismother's beauty, and that poverty and self-sacrifice prevented herfrom being better dressed! One of the young men, the one who woretop-boots and spurs, nudged the other to make him take notice of Oscar'smother, and the other twirled his moustache with a gesture whichsignified, --

"Rather pretty figure!"

"How shall I ever get rid of mamma?" thought Oscar. 

"What's the matter?" asked Madame Clapart. 

Oscar pretended not to hear, the monster! Perhaps Madame Clapart waslacking in tact under the circumstances; but all absorbing sentimentshave so much egotism!

"Georges, do you like children when travelling?" asked one young manof the other. 

"Yes, my good Amaury, if they are weaned, and are named Oscar, andhave chocolate. "

These speeches were uttered in half-tones to allow Oscar to hear themor not hear them as he chose; his countenance was to be theweather-gauge by which the other young traveller could judge how muchfun he might be able to get out of the lad during the journey. Oscarchose not to hear. He looked to see if his mother, who weighed upon himlike a nightmare, was still there, for he felt that she loved him toowell to leave him so quickly. Not only did he involuntarily compare thedress of his travelling companion with his own, but he felt that hismother's toilet counted for much in the smiles of the two young men. 

"If they would only take themselves off!" he said to himself. 

Instead of that, Amaury remarked to Georges, giving a tap with hiscane to the heavy wheel of the coucou:

"And so, my friend, you are really going to trust your future to thisfragile bark?"

"I must, " replied Georges, in a tone of fatalism. 

Oscar gave a sigh as he remarked the jaunty manner in which hiscompanion's hat was stuck on one ear for the purpose of showing amagnificent head of blond hair beautifully brushed and curled; whilehe, by order of his step-father, had his black hair cut like aclothes-brush across the forehead, and clipped, like a soldier's, close to the head. The face of the vain lad was round and chubby andbright with the hues of health, while that of his fellow-traveller waslong, and delicate, and pale. The forehead of the latter was broad, and his chest filled out a waistcoat of cashmere pattern. As Oscaradmired the tight-fitting iron-gray trousers and the overcoat with itsfrogs and olives clasping the waist, it seemed to him that thisromantic-looking stranger, gifted with such advantages, insulted himby his superiority, just as an ugly woman feels injured by the meresight of a pretty one. The click of the stranger's boot-heels offendedhis taste and echoed in his heart. He felt as hampered by his ownclothes (made no doubt at home out of those of his step-father) asthat envied young man seemed at ease in his. 

"That fellow must have heaps of francs in his trousers pocket, "thought Oscar. 

The young man turned round. What were Oscar's feelings on beholding agold chain round his neck, at the end of which no doubt was a goldwatch! From that moment the young man assumed, in Oscar's eyes, theproportions of a personage. 

Living in the rue de la Cerisaie since 1815, taken to and from schoolby his step-father, Oscar had no other points of comparison since hisadolescence than the poverty-stricken household of his mother. Broughtup strictly, by Moreau's advice, he seldom went to the theatre, andthen to nothing better than the Ambigu-Comique, where his eyes couldsee little elegance, if indeed the eyes of a child riveted on amelodrama were likely to examine the audience. His step-father stillwore, after the fashion of the Empire, his watch in the fob of histrousers, from which there depended over his abdomen a heavy goldchain, ending in a bunch of heterogeneous ornaments, seals, and awatch-key with a round top and flat sides, on which was a landscape inmosaic. Oscar, who considered that old-fashioned finery as the "neplus ultra" of adornment, was bewildered by the present revelation ofsuperior and negligent elegance. The young man exhibited, offensively, a pair of spotless gloves, and seemed to wish to dazzle Oscar bytwirling with much grace a gold-headed switch cane. 

Oscar had reached that last quarter of adolescence when little thingscause immense joys and immense miseries, --a period when youth prefersmisfortune to a ridiculous suit of clothes, and caring nothing for thereal interests of life, torments itself about frivolities, aboutneckcloths, and the passionate desire to appear a man. Then the youngfellow swells himself out; his swagger is all the more portentousbecause it is exercised on nothings. Yet if he envies a fool who iselegantly dressed, he is also capable of enthusiasm over talent, andof genuine admiration for genius. Such defects as these, when theyhave no root in the heart, prove only the exuberance of sap, --therichness of the youthful imagination. That a lad of nineteen, an onlychild, kept severely at home by poverty, adored by a mother who putupon herself all privations for his sake, should be moved to envy by ayoung man of twenty-two in a frogged surtout-coat silk-lined, awaist-coat of fancy cashmere, and a cravat slipped through a ring of theworse taste, is nothing more than a peccadillo committed in all ranksof social life by inferiors who envy those that seem beyond them. Menof genius themselves succumb to this primitive passion. Did notRousseau admire Ventura and Bacle?

But Oscar passed from peccadillo to evil feelings. He felt humiliated;he was angry with the youth he envied, and there rose in his heart asecret desire to show openly that he himself was as good as the objectof his envy. 

The two young fellows continued to walk up and own from the gate tothe stables, and from the stables to the gate. Each time they turnedthey looked at Oscar curled up in his corner of the coucou. Oscar, persuaded that their jokes and laughter concerned himself, affectedthe utmost indifference. He began to hum the chorus of a song latelybrought into vogue by the liberals, which ended with the words, "'TisVoltaire's fault, 'tis Rousseau's fault. "

"Tiens! perhaps he is one of the chorus at the Opera, " said Amaury. 

This exasperated Oscar, who bounded up, pulled out the wooden "back, "and called to Pierrotin:--

"When do we start?"

"Presently, " said that functionary, who was standing, whip in hand, and gazing toward the rue d'Enghien. 

At this moment the scene was enlivened by the arrival of a young manaccompanied by a true "gamin, " who was followed by a porter dragging ahand-cart. The young man came up to Pierrotin and spoke to himconfidentially, on which the latter nodded his head, and called to hisown porter. The man ran out and helped to unload the little hand-cart, which contained, besides two trunks, buckets, brushes, boxes ofsingular shape, and an infinity of packages and utensils which theyoungest of the new-comers, who had climbed into the imperial, stowedaway with such celerity that Oscar, who happened to be smiling at hismother, now standing on the other side of the street, saw none of theparaphernalia which might have revealed to him the profession of hisnew travelling companion. 

The gamin, who must have been sixteen years of age, wore a gray blousebuckled round his waist by a polished leather belt. His cap, jauntilyperched on the side of his head, seemed the sign of a merry nature, and so did the picturesque disorder of the curly brown hair which fellupon his shoulders. A black-silk cravat drew a line round his verywhite neck, and added to the vivacity of his bright gray eyes. Theanimation of his brown and rosy face, the moulding of his rather largelips, the ears detached from his head, his slightly turned-up nose, --in fact, all the details of his face proclaimed the lively spirit ofa Figaro, and the careless gayety of youth, while the vivacity of hisgesture and his mocking eye revealed an intellect already developed bythe practice of a profession adopted very early in life. As he hadalready some claims to personal value, this child, made man by Art orby vocation, seemed indifferent to the question of costume; for helooked at his boots, which had not been polished, with a quizzicalair, and searched for the spots on his brown Holland trousers less toremove them than to see their effect. 

"I'm in style, " he said, giving himself a shake and addressing hiscompanion. 

The glance of the latter, showed authority over his adept, in whom apractised eye would at once have recognized the joyous pupil of apainter, called in the argot of the studios a "rapin. "

"Behave yourself, Mistigris, " said his master, giving him the nicknamewhich the studio had no doubt bestowed upon him. 

The master was a slight and pale young man, with extremely thick blackhair, worn in a disorder that was actually fantastic. But thisabundant mass of hair seemed necessary to an enormous head, whose vastforehead proclaimed a precocious intellect. A strained and harassedface, too original to be ugly, was hollowed as if this noticeableyoung man suffered from some chronic malady, or from privations causedby poverty (the most terrible of all chronic maladies), or from griefstoo recent to be forgotten. His clothing, analogous, with dueallowance, to that of Mistigris, consisted of a shabby surtout coat, American-green in color, much worn, but clean and well-brushed; ablack waistcoat buttoned to the throat, which almost concealed ascarlet neckerchief; and trousers, also black and even more worn thanthe coat, flapping his thin legs. In addition, a pair of very muddyboots indicated that he had come on foot and from some distance to thecoach office. With a rapid look this artist seized the whole scene ofthe Lion d'Argent, the stables, the courtyard, the various lights andshades, and the details; then he looked at Mistigris, whose satiricalglance had followed his own. 

"Charming!" said Mistigris. 

"Yes, very, " replied the other. 

"We seem to have got here too early, " pursued Mistigris. "Couldn't weget a mouthful somewhere? My stomach, like Nature, abhors a vacuum. "

"Have we time to get a cup of coffee?" said the artist, in a gentlevoice, to Pierrotin. 

"Yes, but don't be long, " answered the latter. 

"Good; that means we have a quarter of an hour, " remarked Mistigris, with the innate genius for observation of the Paris rapin. 

The pair disappeared. Nine o'clock was striking in the hotel kitchen. Georges thought it just and reasonable to remonstrate with Pierrotin. 

"Hey! my friend; when a man is blessed with such wheels as these(striking the clumsy tires with his cane) he ought at least to havethe merit of punctuality. The deuce! one doesn't get into that thingfor pleasure; I have business that is devilishly pressing or Iwouldn't trust my bones to it. And that horse, which you call Rougeot, he doesn't look likely to make up for lost time. "

"We are going to harness Bichette while those gentlemen take theircoffee, " replied Pierrotin. "Go and ask, you, " he said to his porter, "if Pere Leger is coming with us--"

"Where is your Pere Leger?" asked Georges. 

"Over the way, at number 50. He couldn't get a place in the Beaumontdiligence, " said Pierrotin, still speaking to his porter andapparently making no answer to his customer; then he disappearedhimself in search of Bichette. 

Georges, after shaking hands with his friend, got into the coach, handling with an air of great importance a portfolio which he placedbeneath the cushion of the seat. He took the opposite corner to thatof Oscar, on the same seat. 

"This Pere Leger troubles me, " he said. 

"They can't take away our places, " replied Oscar. "I have number one. "

"And I number two, " said Georges. 

Just as Pierrotin reappeared, having harnessed Bichette, the porterreturned with a stout man in tow, whose weight could not have beenless than two hundred and fifty pounds at the very least. Pere Legerbelonged to the species of farmer which has a square back, aprotuberant stomach, a powdered pigtail, and wears a little coat ofblue linen. His white gaiters, coming above the knee, were fastenedround the ends of his velveteen breeches and secured by silverbuckles. His hob-nailed shoes weighed two pounds each. In his hand, heheld a small reddish stick, much polished, with a large knob, whichwas fastened round his wrist by a thong of leather. 

"And you are called Pere Leger?" asked Georges, very seriously, as thefarmer attempted to put a foot on the step. 

"At your service, " replied the farmer, looking in and showing a facelike that of Louis XVIII. , with fat, rubicund cheeks, from betweenwhich issued a nose that in any other face would have seemed enormous. His smiling eyes were sunken in rolls of fat. "Come, a helping hand, my lad!" he said to Pierrotin. 

The farmer was hoisted in by the united efforts of Pierrotin and theporter, to cries of "Houp la! hi! ha! hoist!" uttered by Georges. 

"Oh! I'm not going far; only to La Cave, " said the farmer, good-humoredly. 

In France everybody takes a joke. 

"Take the back seat, " said Pierrotin, "there'll be six of you. "

"Where's your other horse?" demanded Georges. "Is it as mythical asthe third post-horse. "

"There she is, " said Pierrotin, pointing to the little mare, who wascoming along alone. 

"He calls that insect a horse!" exclaimed Georges. 

"Oh! she's good, that little mare, " said the farmer, who by this timewas seated. "Your servant, gentlemen. Well, Pierrotin, how soon do youstart?"

"I have two travellers in there after a cup of coffee, " repliedPierrotin. 

The hollow-cheeked young man and his page reappeared. 

"Come, let's start!" was the general cry. 

"We are going to start, " replied Pierrotin. "Now, then, make ready, "he said to the porter, who began thereupon to take away the stoneswhich stopped the wheels. 

Pierrotin took Rougeot by the bridle and gave that guttural cry, "Ket, ket!" to tell the two animals to collect their energy; on which, though evidently stiff, they pulled the coach to the door of the Liond'Argent. After which manoeuvre, which was purely preparatory, Pierrotin gazed up the rue d'Enghien and then disappeared, leaving thecoach in charge of the porter. 

"Ah ca! is he subject to such attacks, --that master of yours?" saidMistigris, addressing the porter. 

"He has gone to fetch his feed from the stable, " replied the porter, well versed in all the usual tricks to keep passengers quiet. 

"Well, after all, " said Mistigris, "'art is long, but life is short'--to Bichette. "

At this particular epoch, a fancy for mutilating or transposingproverbs reigned in the studios. It was thought a triumph to findchanges of letters, and sometimes of words, which still kept thesemblance of the proverb while giving it a fantastic or ridiculousmeaning. [*]

 [*] It is plainly impossible to translate many of these proverbs and put any fun or meaning into them. --Tr. 

"Patience, Mistigris!" said his master; "'come wheel, come whoa. '"

Pierrotin here returned, bringing with him the Comte de Serizy, whohad come through the rue de l'Echiquier, and with whom he haddoubtless had a short conversation. 

"Pere Leger, " said Pierrotin, looking into the coach, "will you giveyour place to Monsieur le comte? That will balance the carriagebetter. "

"We sha'n't be off for an hour if you go on this way, " cried Georges. "We shall have to take down this infernal bar, which cost such troubleto put up. Why should everybody be made to move for the man who comeslast? We all have a right to the places we took. What place hasmonsieur engaged? Come, find that out! Haven't you a way-book, aregister, or something? What place has Monsieur Lecomte engaged?--count of what, I'd like to know. "

"Monsieur le comte, " said Pierrotin, visibly troubled, "I am afraidyou will be uncomfortable. "

"Why didn't you keep better count of us?" said Mistigris. "'Shortcounts make good ends. '"

"Mistigris, behave yourself, " said his master. 

Monsieur de Serizy was evidently taken by all the persons in the coachfor a bourgeois of the name of Lecomte. 

"Don't disturb any one, " he said to Pierrotin. "I will sit with you infront. "

"Come, Mistigris, " said the master to his rapin, "remember the respectyou owe to age; you don't know how shockingly old you may be yourselfsome day. 'Travel deforms youth. ' Give your place to monsieur. "

Mistigris opened the leathern curtain and jumped out with the agilityof a frog leaping into the water. 

"You mustn't be a rabbit, august old man, " he said to the count. 

"Mistigris, 'ars est celare bonum, '" said his master. 

"I thank you very much, monsieur, " said the count to Mistigris'smaster, next to whom he now sat. 

The minister of State cast a sagacious glance round the interior ofthe coach, which greatly affronted both Oscar and Georges. 

"When persons want to be master of a coach, they should engage all theplaces, " remarked Georges. 

Certain now of his incognito, the Comte de Serizy made no reply tothis observation, but assumed the air of a good-natured bourgeois. 

"Suppose you were late, wouldn't you be glad that the coach waited foryou?" said the farmer to the two young men. 

Pierrotin still looked up and down the street, whip in hand, apparently reluctant to mount to the hard seat where Mistigris wasfidgeting. 

"If you expect some one else, I am not the last, " said the count. 

"I agree to that reasoning, " said Mistigris. 

Georges and Oscar began to laugh impertinently. 

"The old fellow doesn't know much, " whispered Georges to Oscar, whowas delighted at this apparent union between himself and the object ofhis envy. 

"Parbleu!" cried Pierrotin, "I shouldn't be sorry for two morepassengers. "

"I haven't paid; I'll get out, " said Georges, alarmed. 

"What are you waiting for, Pierrotin?" asked Pere Leger. 

Whereupon Pierrotin shouted a certain "Hi!" in which Bichette andRougeot recognized a definitive resolution, and they both sprangtoward the rise of the faubourg at a pace which was soon to slacken. 

The count had a red face, of a burning red all over, on which werecertain inflamed portions which his snow-white hair brought out intofull relief. To any but heedless youths, this complexion would haverevealed a constant inflammation of the blood, produced by incessantlabor. These blotches and pimples so injured the naturally noble airof the count that careful examination was needed to find in hisgreen-gray eyes the shrewdness of the magistrate, the wisdom of astatesman, and the knowledge of a legislator. His face was flat, andthe nose seemed to have been depressed into it. The hat hid the graceand beauty of his forehead. In short, there was enough to amuse thosethoughtless youths in the odd contrasts of the silvery hair, theburning face, and the thick, tufted eye-brows which were stilljet-black. 

The count wore a long blue overcoat, buttoned in military fashion tothe throat, a white cravat around his neck, cotton wool in his ears, and a shirt-collar high enough to make a large square patch of whiteon each cheek. His black trousers covered his boots, the toes ofwhich were barely seen. He wore no decoration in his button-hole, anddoeskin gloves concealed his hands. Nothing about him betrayed to theeyes of youth a peer of France, and one of the most useful statesmenin the kingdom. 

Pere Leger had never seen the count, who, on his side, knew the formeronly by name. When the count, as he got into the carriage, cast theglance about him which affronted Georges and Oscar, he was, inreality, looking for the head-clerk of his notary (in case he had beenforced, like himself, to take Pierrotin's vehicle), intending tocaution him instantly about his own incognito. But feeling reassuredby the appearance of Oscar, and that of Pere Leger, and, above all, bythe quasi-military air, the waxed moustaches, and the general look ofan adventurer that distinguished Georges, he concluded that his notehad reached his notary, Alexandre Crottat, in time to prevent thedeparture of the clerk. 

"Pere Leger, " said Pierrotin, when they reached the steep hill of thefaubourg Saint-Denis by the rue de la Fidelite, "suppose we get out, hey?"

"I'll get out, too, " said the count, hearing Leger's name. 

"Goodness! if this is how we are going, we shall do fourteen miles infifteen days!" cried Georges. 

"It isn't my fault, " said Pierrotin, "if a passenger wishes to getout. "

"Ten louis for you if you keep the secret of my being here as I toldyou before, " said the count in a low voice, taking Pierrotin by thearm. 

"Oh, my thousand francs!" thought Pierrotin as he winked an eye atMonsieur de Serizy, which meant, "Rely on me. "

Oscar and Georges stayed in the coach. 

"Look here, Pierrotin, since Pierrotin you are, " cried Georges, whenthe passengers were once more stowed away in the vehicle, "if youdon't mean to go faster than this, say so! I'll pay my fare and take apost-horse at Saint-Denis, for I have important business on hand whichcan't be delayed. "

"Oh! he'll go well enough, " said Pere Leger. "Besides, the distanceisn't great. "

"I am never more than half an hour late, " asserted Pierrotin. 

"Well, you are not wheeling the Pope in this old barrow of yours, "said Georges, "so, get on. "

"Perhaps he's afraid of shaking monsieur, " said Mistigris lookinground at the count. "But you shouldn't have preferences, Pierrotin, itisn't right. "

"Coucous and the Charter make all Frenchmen equals, " said Georges. 

"Oh! be easy, " said Pere Leger; "we are sure to get to La Chapelle bymid-day, "--La Chapelle being the village next beyond the Barriere ofSaint-Denis. 

 CHAPTER IV

 THE GRANDSON OF THE FAMOUS CZERNI-GEORGES

Those who travel in public conveyances know that the persons thusunited by chance do not immediately have anything to say to oneanother; unless under special circumstances, conversation rarelybegins until they have gone some distance. This period of silence isemployed as much in mutual examination as in settling into theirplaces. Minds need to get their equilibrium as much as bodies. Wheneach person thinks he has discovered the age, profession, andcharacter of his companions, the most talkative member of the companybegins, and the conversation gets under way with all the more vivacitybecause those present feel a need of enlivening the journey andforgetting its tedium. 

That is how things happen in French stage-coaches. In other countriescustoms are very different. Englishmen pique themselves on neveropening their lips; Germans are melancholy in a vehicle; Italians toowary to talk; Spaniards have no public conveyances; and Russians noroads. There is no amusement except in the lumbering diligences ofFrance, that gabbling and indiscreet country, where every one is in ahurry to laugh and show his wit, and where jest and epigram enlivenall things, even the poverty of the lower classes and the weightiercares of the solid bourgeois. In a coach there is no police to checktongues, and legislative assemblies have set the fashion of publicdiscussion. When a young man of twenty-two, like the one namedGeorges, is clever and lively, he is much tempted, especially undercircumstances like the present, to abuse those qualities. 

In the first place, Georges had soon decided that he was the superiorhuman being of the party there assembled. He saw in the count amanufacturer of the second-class, whom he took, for some unknownreason, to be a chandler; in the shabby young man accompanied byMistigris, a fellow of no account; in Oscar a ninny, and in PereLeger, the fat farmer, an excellent subject to hoax. Having thuslooked over the ground, he resolved to amuse himself at the expense ofsuch companions. 

"Let me see, " he thought to himself, as the coucou went down the hillfrom La Chapelle to the plain of Saint-Denis, "shall I pass myself offfor Etienne or Beranger? No, these idiots don't know who they are. Carbonaro? the deuce! I might get myself arrested. Suppose I say I'mthe son of Marshal Ney? Pooh! what could I tell them?--about theexecution of my father? It wouldn't be funny. Better be a disguisedRussian prince and make them swallow a lot of stuff about the EmperorAlexander. Or I might be Cousin, and talk philosophy; oh, couldn't Iperplex 'em! But no, that shabby fellow with the tousled head looks tome as if he had jogged his way through the Sorbonne. What a pity! Ican mimic an Englishman so perfectly I might have pretended to be LordByron, travelling incognito. Sapristi! I'll command the troops of Ali, pacha of Janina!"

During this mental monologue, the coucou rolled through clouds of dustrising on either side of it from that much travelled road. 

"What dust!" cried Mistigris. 

"Henry IV. Is dead!" retorted his master. "If you'd say it was scentedwith vanilla that would be emitting a new opinion. "

"You think you're witty, " replied Mistigris. "Well, it _is_ likevanilla at times. "

"In the Levant--" said Georges, with the air of beginning a story. 

"'Ex Oriente flux, '" remarked Mistigris's master, interrupting thespeaker. 

"I said in the Levant, from which I have just returned, " continuedGeorges, "the dust smells very good; but here it smells of nothing, except in some old dust-barrel like this. "

"Has monsieur lately returned from the Levant?" said Mistigris, maliciously. "He isn't much tanned by the sun. "

"Oh! I've just left my bed after an illness of three months, from thegerm, so the doctors said, of suppressed plague. "

"Have you had the plague?" cried the count, with a gesture of alarm. "Pierrotin, stop!"

"Go on, Pierrotin, " said Mistigris. "Didn't you hear him say it wasinward, his plague?" added the rapin, talking back to Monsieur deSerizy. "It isn't catching; it only comes out in conversation. "

"Mistigris! if you interfere again I'll have you put off into theroad, " said his master. "And so, " he added, turning to Georges, "monsieur has been to the East?"

"Yes, monsieur; first to Egypt, then to Greece, where I served underAli, pacha of Janina, with whom I had a terrible quarrel. There's noenduring those climates long; besides, the emotions of all kinds inOriental life have disorganized my liver. "

"What, have you served as a soldier?" asked the fat farmer. "How oldare you?"

"Twenty-nine, " replied Georges, whereupon all the passengers looked athim. "At eighteen I enlisted as a private for the famous campaign of1813; but I was present at only one battle, that of Hanau, where I waspromoted sergeant-major. In France, at Montereau, I won the rank ofsub-lieutenant, and was decorated by, --there are no informers here, I'm sure, --by the Emperor. "

"What! are you decorated?" cried Oscar. "Why don't you wear yourcross?"

"The cross of 'ceux-ci'? No, thank you! Besides, what man of anybreeding would wear his decorations in travelling? There's monsieur, "he said, motioning to the Comte de Serizy. "I'll bet whatever youlike--"

"Betting whatever you like means, in France, betting nothing at all, "said Mistigris's master. 

"I'll bet whatever you like, " repeated Georges, incisively, "thatmonsieur here is covered with stars. "

"Well, " said the count, laughing, "I have the grand cross of theLegion of honor, that of Saint Andrew of Russia, that of the PrussianEagle, that of the Annunciation of Sardinia, and the Golden Fleece. "

"Beg pardon, " said Mistigris, "are they all in the coucou?"

"Hey! that brick-colored old fellow goes it strong!" whispered Georgesto Oscar. "What was I saying?--oh! I know. I don't deny that I adorethe Emperor--"

"I served under him, " said the count. 

"What a man he was, wasn't he?" cried Georges. 

"A man to whom I owe many obligations, " replied the count, with asilly expression that was admirably assumed. 

"For all those crosses?" inquired Mistigris. 

"And what quantities of snuff he took!" continued Monsieur de Serizy. 

"He carried it loose in his pockets, " said Georges. 

"So I've been told, " remarked Pere Leger with an incredulous look. 

"Worse than that; he chewed and smoked, " continued Georges. "I saw himsmoking, in a queer way, too, at Waterloo, when Marshal Soult took himround the waist and flung him into his carriage, just as he had seizeda musket and was going to charge the English--"

"You were at Waterloo!" cried Oscar, his eyes stretching wide open. 

"Yes, young man, I did the campaign of 1815. I was a captain atMont-Saint-Jean, and I retired to the Loire, after we were alldisbanded. Faith! I was disgusted with France; I couldn't stand it. Infact, I should certainly have got myself arrested; so off I went, withtwo or three dashing fellows, --Selves, Besson, and others, who are nowin Egypt, --and we entered the service of pacha Mohammed; a queer sort offellow he was, too! Once a tobacco merchant in the bazaars, he is nowon the high-road to be a sovereign prince. You've all seen him in thatpicture by Horace Vernet, --'The Massacre of the Mameluks. ' What ahandsome fellow he was! But I wouldn't give up the religion of myfathers and embrace Islamism; all the more because the abjurationrequired a surgical operation which I hadn't any fancy for. Besides, nobody respects a renegade. Now if they had offered me a hundredthousand francs a year, perhaps--and yet, no! The pacha did give me athousand talari as a present. "

"How much is that?" asked Oscar, who was listening to Georges with allhis ears. 

"Oh! not much. A talaro is, as you might say, a five-franc piece. Butfaith! I got no compensation for the vices I contracted in thatGod-forsaken country, if country it is. I can't live now withoutsmoking a narghile twice a-day, and that's very costly. "

"How did you find Egypt?" asked the count. 

"Egypt? Oh! Egypt is all sand, " replied Georges, by no means takenaback. "There's nothing green but the valley of the Nile. Draw a greenline down a sheet of yellow paper, and you have Egypt. But thoseEgyptians--fellahs they are called--have an immense advantage over us. There are no gendarmes in that country. You may go from end to end ofEgypt, and you won't see one. "

"But I suppose there are a good many Egyptians, " said Mistigris. 

"Not as many as you think for, " replied Georges. "There are many moreAbyssinians, and Giaours, and Vechabites, Bedouins, and Cophs. But allthat kind of animal is very uninteresting, and I was glad enough toembark on a Genoese polacca which was loading for the Ionian Islandswith gunpowder and munitions for Ali de Tebelen. You know, don't you, that the British sell powder and munitions of war to all the world, --Turks, Greeks, and the devil, too, if the devil has money? From Zantewe were to skirt the coasts of Greece and tack about, on and off. Nowit happens that my name of Georges is famous in that country. I am, such as you see me, the grandson of the famous Czerni-Georges who madewar upon the Porte, and, instead of crushing it, as he meant to do, got crushed himself. His son took refuge in the house of the Frenchconsul at Smyrna, and he afterwards died in Paris, leaving my motherpregnant with me, his seventh child. Our property was all stolen byfriends of my grandfather; in fact, we were ruined. My mother, wholived on her diamonds, which she sold one by one, married, in 1799, mystep-father, Monsieur Yung, a purveyor. But my mother is dead, and Ihave quarrelled with my step-father, who, between ourselves, is ablackguard; he is still alive, but I never see him. That's why, indespair, left all to myself, I went off to the wars as a private in1813. Well, to go back to the time I returned to Greece; you wouldn'tbelieve with what joy old Ali Tebelen received the grandson ofCzerni-Georges. Here, of course, I call myself simply Georges. Thepacha gave me a harem--"

"You have had a harem?" said Oscar. 

"Were you a pacha with _many_ tails?" asked Mistigris. 

"How is it that you don't know, " replied Georges, "that only theSultan makes pachas, and that my friend Tebelen (for we were asfriendly as Bourbons) was in rebellion against the Padishah! You know, or you don't know, that the true title of the Grand Seignior isPadishah, and not Sultan or Grand Turk. You needn't think that a haremis much of a thing; you might as well have a herd of goats. The womenare horribly stupid down there; I much prefer the grisettes of theChaumieres at Mont-Parnasse. "

"They are nearer, at any rate, " said the count. 

"The women of the harem couldn't speak a word of French, and thatlanguage is indispensable for talking. Ali gave me five legitimatewives and ten slaves; that's equivalent to having none at all atJanina. In the East, you must know, it is thought very bad style tohave wives and women. They have them, just as we have Voltaire andRousseau; but who ever opens his Voltaire or his Rousseau? Nobody. But, for all that, the highest style is to be jealous. They sew awoman up in a sack and fling her into the water on the slightestsuspicion, --that's according to their Code. "

"Did you fling any in?" asked the farmer. 

"I, a Frenchman! for shame! I loved them. "

Whereupon Georges twirled and twisted his moustache with a dreamy air. 

They were now entering Saint-Denis, and Pierrotin presently drew upbefore the door of a tavern where were sold the famous cheese-cakes ofthat place. All the travellers got out. Puzzled by the apparent truthmingled with Georges' inventions, the count returned to the coucouwhen the others had entered the house, and looked beneath the cushionfor the portfolio which Pierrotin told him that enigmatical youth hadplaced there. On it he read the words in gilt letters: "MaitreCrottat, notary. " The count at once opened it, and fearing, with somereason, that Pere Leger might be seized with the same curiosity, hetook out the deed of sale for the farm at Moulineaux, put it into hiscoat pocket, and entered the inn to keep an eye on the travellers. 

"This Georges is neither more nor less than Crottat's second clerk, "thought he. "I shall pay my compliments to his master, whose businessit was to send me his head-clerk. "

From the respectful glances of Pere Leger and Oscar, Georges perceivedthat he had made for himself two fervent admirers. Accordingly, he nowposed as a great personage; paid for their cheese-cakes, and orderedfor each a glass of Alicante. He offered the same to Mistigris and hismaster, who refused with smiles; but the friend of Ali Tebelenprofited by the occasion to ask the pair their names. 

"Oh! monsieur, " said Mistigris' master, "I am not blessed, like you, with an illustrious name; and I have not returned from Asia--"

At this moment the count, hastening into the huge inn-kitchen lest hisabsence should excite inquiry, entered the place in time to hear theconclusion of the young man's speech. 

"--I am only a poor painter lately returned from Rome, where I went atthe cost of the government, after winning the 'grand prix' five yearsago. My name is Schinner. "

"Hey! bourgeois, may I offer you a glass of Alicante and somecheese-cakes?" said Georges to the count. 

"Thank you, " replied the latter. "I never leave home without taking mycup of coffee and cream. "

"Don't you eat anything between meals? How bourgeois, Marais, PlaceRoyale, that is!" cried Georges. "When he 'blagued' just now about hiscrosses, I thought there was something in him, " whispered the Easternhero to the painter. "However, we'll set him going on his decorations, the old tallow-chandler! Come, my lad, " he added, calling to Oscar, "drink me down the glass poured out for the chandler; that will startyour moustache. "

Oscar, anxious to play the man, swallowed the second glass of wine, and ate three more cheese-cakes. 

"Good wine, that!" said Pere Leger, smacking his lips. 

"It is all the better, " said Georges, "because it comes from Bercy. I've been to Alicante myself, and I know that this wine no moreresembles what is made there than my arm is like a windmill. Ourmade-up wines are a great deal better than the natural ones in theirown country. Come, Pierrotin, take a glass! It is a great pity yourhorses can't take one, too; we might go faster. "

"Forward, march!" cried Pierrotin, amid a mighty cracking of whips, after the travellers were again boxed up. 

It was now eleven o'clock. The weather, which had been cloudy, cleared; the breeze swept off the mists, and the blue of the skyappeared in spots; so that when the coucou trundled along the narrowstrip of road from Saint-Denis to Pierrefitte, the sun had fairlydrunk up the last floating vapors of the diaphanous veil which swathedthe scenery of that famous region. 

"Well, now, tell us why you left your friend the pacha, " said PereLeger, addressing Georges. 

"He was a very singular scamp, " replied Georges, with an air that hida multitude of mysteries. "He put me in command of his cavalry, --sofar, so good--"

"Ah! that's why he wears spurs, " thought poor Oscar. 

"At that time Ali Tebelen wanted to rid himself of Chosrew pacha, another queer chap! You call him, here, Chaureff; but the name ispronounced, in Turkish, Cosserew. You must have read in the newspapershow old Ali drubbed Chosrew, and soundly, too, faith! Well, if ithadn't been for me, Ali Tebelen himself would have bit the dust twodays earlier. I was at the right wing, and I saw Chosrew, an oldsly-boots, thinking to force our centre, --ranks closed, stiff, swift, fine movement a la Murat. Good! I take my time; then I charge, double-quick, and cut his line in two, --you understand? Ha! ha! afterthe affair was over, Ali kissed me--"

"Do they do that in the East?" asked the count, in a joking way. 

"Yes, monsieur, " said the painter, "that's done all the world over. "

"After that, " continued Georges, "Ali gave me yataghans, and carbines, and scimetars, and what-not. But when we got back to his capital hemade me propositions, wanted me to drown a wife, and make a slave ofmyself, --Orientals are so queer! But I thought I'd had enough of it;for, after all, you know, Ali was a rebel against the Porte. So Iconcluded I had better get off while I could. But I'll do MonsieurTebelen the justice to say that he loaded me with presents, --diamonds, ten thousand talari, one thousand gold coins, a beautiful Greek girlfor groom, a little Circassian for a mistress, and an Arab horse! Yes, Ali Tebelen, pacha of Janina, is too little known; he needs anhistorian. It is only in the East one meets with such iron souls, whocan nurse a vengeance twenty years and accomplish it some finemorning. He had the most magnificent white beard that was ever seen, and a hard, stern face--"

"But what did you do with your treasures?" asked farmer Leger. 

"Ha! that's it! you may well ask that! Those fellows down therehaven't any Grand Livre nor any Bank of France. So I was forced tocarry off my windfalls in a felucca, which was captured by the TurkishHigh-Admiral himself. Such as you see me here to-day, I came very nearbeing impaled at Smyrna. Indeed, if it hadn't been for Monsieur deRiviere, our ambassador, who was there, they'd have taken me for anaccomplice of Ali pacha. I saved my head, but, to tell the honesttruth, all the rest, the ten thousand talari, the thousand goldpieces, and the fine weapons, were all, yes all, drunk up by thethirsty treasury of the Turkish admiral. My position was the moreperilous because that very admiral happened to be Chosrew pacha. AfterI routed him, the fellow had managed to obtain a position which isequal to that of our Admiral of the Fleet--"

"But I thought he was in the cavalry?" said Pere Leger, who hadfollowed the narrative with the deepest attention. 

"Dear me! how little the East is understood in the French provinces!"cried Georges. "Monsieur, I'll explain the Turks to you. You are afarmer; the Padishah (that's the Sultan) makes you a marshal; if youdon't fulfil your functions to his satisfaction, so much the worse foryou, he cuts your head off; that's his way of dismissing hisfunctionaries. A gardener is made a prefect; and the prime ministercomes down to be a foot-boy. The Ottomans have no system of promotionand no hierarchy. From a cavalry officer Chosrew simply became a navalofficer. Sultan Mahmoud ordered him to capture Ali by sea; and he didget hold of him, assisted by those beggarly English--who put their pawon most of the treasure. This Chosrew, who had not forgotten theriding-lesson I gave him, recognized me. You understand, my goose wascooked, oh, brown! when it suddenly came into my head to claimprotection as a Frenchman and a troubadour from Monsieur de Riviere. The ambassador, enchanted to find something to show him off, demandedthat I should be set at liberty. The Turks have one good trait intheir nature; they are as willing to let you go as they are to cutyour head off; they are indifferent to everything. The French consul, charming fellow, friend of Chosrew, made him give back two thousand ofthe talari, and, consequently, his name is, as I may say, graven on myheart--"

"What was his name?" asked Monsieur de Serizy; and a look of somesurprise passed over his face as Georges named, correctly, one of ourmost distinguished consul-generals who happened at that time to bestationed at Smyrna. 

"I assisted, " added Georges, "at the execution of the Governor ofSmyrna, whom the Sultan had ordered Chosrew to put to death. It wasone of the most curious things I ever saw, though I've seen many, --I'll tell you about it when we stop for breakfast. From Smyrna Icrossed to Spain, hearing there was a revolution there. I wentstraight to Mina, who appointed me as his aide-de-camp with the rankof colonel. I fought for the constitutional cause, which willcertainly be defeated when we enter Spain--as we undoubtedly shall, some of these days--"

"You, a French soldier!" said the count, sternly. "You showextraordinary confidence in the discretion of those who are listeningto you. "

"But there are no spies here, " said Georges. 

"Are you aware, Colonel Georges, " continued the count, "that the Courtof Peers is at this very time inquiring into a conspiracy which hasmade the government extremely severe in its treatment of Frenchsoldiers who bear arms against France, and who deal in foreignintrigues for the purpose of overthrowing our legitimate sovereigns. "

On hearing this stern admonition the painter turned red to his earsand looked at Mistigris, who seemed dumfounded. 

"Well, " said Pere Leger, "what next?"

"If, " continued the count, "I were a magistrate, it would be my dutyto order the gendarmes at Pierrefitte to arrest the aide-de-camp ofMina, and to summon all present in this vehicle to testify to hiswords. "

This speech stopped Georges' narrative all the more surely, because atthis moment the coucou reached the guard-house of a brigade ofgendarmerie, --the white flag floating, as the orthodox saying is, uponthe breeze. 

"You have too many decorations to do such a dastardly thing, " saidOscar. 

"Never mind; we'll catch up with him soon, " whispered Georges in thelad's ear. 

"Colonel, " cried Leger, who was a good deal disturbed by the count'soutburst, and wanted to change the conversation, "in all thesecountries where you have been, what sort of farming do they do? How dothey vary the crops?"

"Well, in the first place, my good fellow, you must understand, theyare too busy cropping off each others' heads to think much of croppingthe ground. "

The count couldn't help smiling; and that smile reassured thenarrator. 

"They have a way of cultivating which you will think very queer. Theydon't cultivate at all; that's their style of farming. The Turks andthe Greeks, they eat onions or rise. They get opium from poppies, andit gives them a fine revenue. Then they have tobacco, which grows ofitself, famous latakiah! and dates! and all kinds of sweet things thatdon't need cultivation. It is a country full of resources andcommerce. They make fine rugs at Smyrna, and not dear. "

"But, " persisted Leger, "if the rugs are made of wool they must comefrom sheep; and to have sheep you must have fields, farms, culture--"

"Well, there may be something of that sort, " replied Georges. "Buttheir chief crop, rice, grows in the water. As for me, I have onlybeen along the coasts and seen the parts that are devastated by war. Besides, I have the deepest aversion to statistics. "

"How about the taxes?" asked the farmer. 

"Oh! the taxes are heavy; they take all a man has, and leave him therest. The pacha of Egypt was so struck with the advantages of thatsystem, that, when I came away he was on the point of organizing hisown administration on that footing--"

"But, " said Leger, who no longer understood a single word, "how?"

"How?" said Georges. "Why, agents go round and take all the harvests, and leave the fellahs just enough to live on. That's a system thatdoes away with stamped papers and bureaucracy, the curse of France, hein?"

"By virtue of what right?" said Leger. 

"Right? why it is a land of despotism. They haven't any rights. Don'tyou know the fine definition Montesquieu gives of despotism. 'Like thesavage, it cuts down the tree to gather the fruits. ' They don't tax, they take everything. "

"And that's what our rulers are trying to bring us to. 'Tax vobiscum, '--no, thank you!" said Mistigris. 

"But that is what we _are_ coming to, " said the count. "Therefore, thosewho own land will do well to sell it. Monsieur Schinner must have seenhow things are tending in Italy, where the taxes are enormous. "

"Corpo di Bacco! the Pope is laying it on heavily, " replied Schinner. "But the people are used to it. Besides, Italians are so good-naturedthat if you let 'em murder a few travellers along the highways they'recontented. "

"I see, Monsieur Schinner, " said the count, "that you are not wearingthe decoration you obtained in 1819; it seems the fashion nowadays notto wear orders. "

Mistigris and the pretended Schinner blushed to their ears. 

"Well, with me, " said the artist, "the case is different. It isn't onaccount of fashion; but I don't want to be recognized. Have thegoodness not to betray me, monsieur; I am supposed to be a littlepainter of no consequence, --a mere decorator. I'm on may way to achateau where I mustn't rouse the slightest suspicion. "

"Ah! I see, " said the count, "some intrigue, --a love affair! Youth ishappy!"

Oscar, who was writhing in his skin at being a nobody and havingnothing to say, gazed at Colonel Czerni-Georges and at the famouspainter Schinner, and wondered how he could transform himself intosomebody. But a youth of nineteen, kept at home all his life, andgoing for two weeks only into the country, what could he be, or do, orsay? However, the Alicante had got into his head, and his vanity wasboiling in his veins; so when the famous Schinner allowed a romanticadventure to be guessed at in which the danger seemed as great as thepleasure, he fastened his eyes, sparkling with wrath and envy, uponthat hero. 

"Yes, " said the count, with a credulous air, "a man must love a womanwell to make such sacrifices. "

"What sacrifices?" demanded Mistigris. 

"Don't you know, my little friend, that a ceiling painted by so greata master as yours is worth its weight in gold?" replied the count. "Ifthe civil list paid you, as it did, thirty thousand francs for each ofthose rooms in the Louvre, " he continued, addressing Schinner, "abourgeois, --as you call us in the studios--ought certainly to pay youtwenty thousand. Whereas, if you go to this chateau as a humbledecorator, you will not get two thousand. "

"The money is not the greatest loss, " said Mistigris. "The work issure to be a masterpiece, but he can't sign it, you know, for fear ofcompromising _her_. "

"Ah! I'd return all my crosses to the sovereigns who gave them to mefor the devotion that youth can win, " said the count. 

"That's just it!" said Mistigris, "when one's young, one's loved;plenty of love, plenty of women; but they do say: 'Where there's wife, there's mope. '"

"What does Madame Schinner say to all this?" pursued the count; "for Ibelieve you married, out of love, the beautiful Adelaide de Rouville, the protegee of old Admiral de Kergarouet; who, by the bye, obtainedfor you the order for the Louvre ceilings through his nephew, theComte de Fontaine. "

"A great painter is never married when he travels, " said Mistigris. 

"So that's the morality of studios, is it?" cried the count, with anair of great simplicity. 

"Is the morality of courts where you got those decorations of yoursany better?" said Schinner, recovering his self-possession, upset forthe moment by finding out how much the count knew of Schinner's lifeas an artist. 

"I never asked for any of my orders, " said the count. "I believe Ihave loyally earned them. "

"'A fair yield and no flavor, '" said Mistigris. 

The count was resolved not to betray himself; he assumed an air ofgood-humored interest in the country, and looked up the valley ofGroslay as the coucou took the road to Saint-Brice, leaving that toChantilly on the right. 

"Is Rome as fine as they say it is?" said Georges, addressing thegreat painter. 

"Rome is fine only to those who love it; a man must have a passion forit to enjoy it. As a city, I prefer Venice, --though I just missedbeing murdered there. "

"Faith, yes!" cried Mistigris; "if it hadn't been for me you'd havebeen gobbled up. It was that mischief-making tom-fool, Lord Byron, whogot you into the scrape. Oh! wasn't he raging, that buffoon of anEnglishman?"

"Hush!" said Schinner. "I don't want my affair with Lord Byron talkedabout. "

"But you must own, all the same, that you were glad enough I knew howto box, " said Mistigris. 

From time to time, Pierrotin exchanged sly glances with the count, which might have made less inexperienced persons than the five othertravellers uneasy. 

"Lords, pachas, and thirty-thousand-franc ceilings!" he cried. "I seemto be driving sovereigns. What pourboires I'll get!"

"And all the places paid for!" said Mistigris, slyly. 

"It is a lucky day for me, " continued Pierrotin; "for you know, PereLeger, about my beautiful new coach on which I have paid an advance oftwo thousand francs? Well, those dogs of carriage-builders, to whom Ihave to pay two thousand five hundred francs more, won't take fifteenhundred down, and my note for a thousand for two months! Thosevultures want it all. Who ever heard of being so stiff with a man inbusiness these eight years, and the father of a family?--making me runthe risk of losing everything, carriage and money too, if I can't findbefore to-morrow night that miserable last thousand! Hue, Bichette!They won't play that trick on the great coach offices, I'll warrantyou. "

"Yes, that's it, " said the rapin; "'your money or your strife. '"

"Well, you have only eight hundred now to get, " remarked the count, who considered this moan, addressed to Pere Leger, a sort of letter ofcredit drawn upon himself. 

"True, " said Pierrotin. "Xi! xi! Rougeot!"

"You must have seen many fine ceilings in Venice, " resumed the count, addressing Schinner. 

"I was too much in love to take any notice of what seemed to me thenmere trifles, " replied Schinner. "But I was soon cured of that folly, for it was in the Venetian states--in Dalmatia--that I received acruel lesson. "

"Can it be told?" asked Georges. "I know Dalmatia very well. "

"Well, if you have been there, you know that all the people at thatend of the Adriatic are pirates, rovers, corsairs retired frombusiness, as they haven't been hanged--"

"Uscoques, " said Georges. 

Hearing the right name given, the count, who had been sent by Napoleonon one occasion to the Illyrian provinces, turned his head and lookedat Georges, so surprised was he. 

"The affair happened in that town where they make maraschino, "continued Schinner, seeming to search for a name. 

"Zara, " said Georges. "I've been there; it is on the coast. "

"You are right, " said the painter. "I had gone there to look at thecountry, for I adore scenery. I've longed a score of times to paintlandscape, which no one, as I think, understands but Mistigris, whowill some day reproduce Hobbema, Ruysdael, Claude Lorrain, Poussin, and others. "

"But, " exclaimed the count, "if he reproduces one of them won't thatbe enough?"

"If you persist in interrupting, monsieur, " said Oscar, "we shallnever get on. "

"And Monsieur Schinner was not addressing himself to you inparticular, " added Georges. 

"'Tisn't polite to interrupt, " said Mistigris, sententiously, "but weall do it, and conversation would lose a great deal if we didn'tscatter little condiments while exchanging our reflections. Therefore, continue, agreeable old gentleman, to lecture us, if you like. It isdone in the best society, and you know the proverb: 'we must 'owl withthe wolves. '"

"I had heard marvellous things of Dalmatia, " resumed Schinner, "so Iwent there, leaving Mistigris in Venice at an inn--"

"'Locanda, '" interposed Mistigris; "keep to the local color. "

"Zara is what is called a country town--"

"Yes, " said Georges; "but it is fortified. "

"Parbleu!" said Schinner; "the fortifications count for much in myadventure. At Zara there are a great many apothecaries. I lodged withone. In foreign countries everybody makes a principal business ofletting lodgings; all other trades are accessory. In the evening, linen changed, I sat in my balcony. In the opposite balcony I saw awoman; oh! such a woman! Greek, --_that tells all_! The most beautifulcreature in the town; almond eyes, lids that dropped like curtains, lashes like a paint-brush, a face with an oval to drive Raffaelle mad, a skin of the most delicious coloring, tints well-blended, velvety!and hands, oh!--"

"They weren't made of butter like those of the David school, " put inMistigris. 

"You are always lugging in your painting, " cried Georges. 

"La, la!" retorted Mistigris; "'an ounce o' paint is worth a pound ofswagger. '"

"And such a costume! pure Greek!" continued Schinner. "Conflagrationof soul! you understand? Well, I questioned my Diafoirus; and he toldme that my neighbor was named Zena. Changed my linen. The husband, anold villain, in order to marry Zena, paid three hundred thousandfrancs to her father and mother, so celebrated was the beauty of thatbeautiful creature, who was truly the most beautiful girl in allDalmatia, Illyria, Adriatica, and other places. In those parts theybuy their wives without seeing them--"

"I shall not go _there_, " said Pere Leger. 

"There are nights when my sleep is still illuminated by the eyes ofZena, " continued Schinner. "The husband was sixty-nine years of age, and jealous! not as a tiger, for they say of a tiger, 'jealous as aDalmatian'; and my man was worse than A Dalmatian, one Dalmatian, --hewas three and a half Dalmatians at the very least; he was an Uscoque, tricoque, archicoque in a bicoque of a paltry little place likeZara--"

"Horrid fellow, and 'horrider bellow, '" put in Mistigris. 

"Ha! good, " said Georges, laughing. 

"After being a corsair, and probably a pirate, he thought no more ofspitting a Christian on his dagger than I did of spitting on theground, " continued Schinner. "So that was how the land lay. The oldwretch had millions, and was hideous with the loss of an ear somepacha had cut off, and the want of an eye left I don't know where. 'Never, ' said the little Diafoirus, 'never does he leave his wife, never for a second. ' 'Perhaps she'll want your services, and I couldgo in your clothes; that's a trick that has great success in ourtheatres, ' I told him. Well, it would take too long to tell you allthe delicious moments of that lifetime--to wit, three days--which Ipassed exchanging looks with Zena, and changing linen every day. Itwas all the more violently titillating because the slightest motionwas significant and dangerous. At last it must have dawned upon Zena'smind that none but a Frenchman and an artist was daring enough to makeeyes at her in the midst of the perils by which she was surrounded;and as she hated her hideous pirate, she answered my glances withdelightful ogles fit to raise a man to the summit of Paradise withoutpulleys. I attained to the height of Don Quixote; I rose toexaltation! and I cried: 'The monster may kill me, but I'll go, I'llgo!' I gave up landscape and studied the ignoble dwelling of theUscoque. That night, changed linen, and put on the most perfumed shirtI had; then I crossed the street, and entered--"

"The house?" cried Oscar. 

"The house?" echoed Georges. 

"The house, " said Schinner. 

"Well, you're a bold dog, " cried farmer Leger. "I should have kept outof it myself. "

"Especially as you could never have got through the doorway, " repliedSchinner. "So in I went, " he resumed, "and I found two hands stretchedout to meet mine. I said nothing, for those hands, soft as the peel ofan onion, enjoined me to silence. A whisper breathed into my ear, 'Hesleeps!' Then, as we were sure that nobody would see us, we went towalk, Zena and I, upon the ramparts, but accompanied, if you please, by a duenna, as hideous as an old portress, who didn't leave us anymore than our shadow; and I couldn't persuade Madame Pirate to sendher away. The next night we did the same thing, and again I wanted toget rid of the old woman, but Zena resisted. As my sweet love spokeonly Greek, and I Venetian, we couldn't understand each other, and sowe quarrelled. I said to myself, in changing linen, 'As sure as fate, the next time there'll be no old woman, and we can make it all up withthe language of love. ' Instead of which, fate willed that that oldwoman should save my life! You'll hear how. The weather was fine, and, not to create suspicion, I took a turn at landscape, --this was afterour quarrel was made up, you understand. After walking along theramparts for some time, I was coming tranquilly home with my hands inmy pockets, when I saw the street crowded with people. Such a crowd!like that for an execution. It fell upon me; I was seized, garroted, gagged, and guarded by the police. Ah! you don't know--and I hope younever may know--what it is to be taken for a murderer by a maddenedpopulace which stones you and howls after you from end to end of theprincipal street of a town, shouting for your death! Ah! those eyeswere so many flames, all mouths were a single curse, while from thevolume of that burning hatred rose the fearful cry: 'To death! todeath! down with the murderer!'"

"So those Dalmatians spoke our language, did they?" said the count. "Iobserve you relate the scene as if it happened yesterday. "

Schinner was nonplussed. 

"Riot has but one language, " said the astute statesman Mistigris. 

"Well, " continued Schinner, "when I was brought into court in presenceof the magistrates, I learned that the cursed corsair was dead, poisoned by Zena. I'd liked to have changed linen then. Give you myword, I knew nothing of _that_ melodrama. It seems the Greek girl putopium (a great many poppies, as monsieur told us, grow about there) inthe pirate's grog, just to make him sleep soundly and leave her freefor a little walk with me, and the old duenna, unfortunate creature, made a mistake and trebled the dose. The immense fortune of thatcursed pirate was really the cause of all my Zena's troubles. But sheexplained matters so ingenuously that I, for one, was released with aninjunction from the mayor and the Austrian commissary of police to goback to Rome. Zena, who let the heirs of the Uscoque and the judgesget most of the old villain's wealth, was let off with two years'seclusion in a convent, where she still is. I am going back there someday to paint her portrait; for in a few years, you know, all this willbe forgotten. Such are the follies one commits at eighteen!"

"And you left me without a sou in the locanda at Venice, " saidMistigris. "And I had to get from Venice to Rome by painting portraitsfor five francs apiece, which they didn't pay me. However, that was myhalcyon time. I don't regret it. "

"You can imagine the reflections that came to me in that Dalmatianprison, thrown there without protection, having to answer to Austriansand Dalmatians, and in danger of losing my head because I went twiceto walk with a woman. There's ill-luck, with a vengeance!"

"Did all that really happen to you?" said Oscar, naively. 

"Why shouldn't it happen to him, inasmuch as it had already happenedduring the French occupation of Illyria to one of our most gallantofficers of artillery?" said the count, slyly. 

"And you believed that artillery officer?" said Mistigris, as slyly tothe count. 

"Is that all?" asked Oscar. 

"Of course he can't tell you that they cut his head off, --how couldhe?" said Mistigris. "'Dead schinners tell no tales. '"

"Monsieur, are there farms in that country?" asked Pere Leger. "Whatdo they cultivate?"

"Maraschino, " replied Mistigris, --"a plant that grows to the height ofthe lips, and produces a liqueur which goes by that name. "

"Ah!" said Pere Leger. 

"I only stayed three days in the town and fifteen in prison, " saidSchinner, "so I saw nothing; not even the fields where they grow themaraschino. "

"They are fooling you, " said Georges to the farmer. "Maraschino comesin cases. "

"'Romances alter cases, '" remarked Mistigris. 

 CHAPTER V

 THE DRAMA BEGINS

Pierrotin's vehicle was now going down the steep incline of the valleyof Saint-Brice to the inn which stands in the middle of the largevillage of that name, where Pierrotin was in the habit of stopping anhour to breathe his horses, give them their oats, and water them. Itwas now about half-past one o'clock. 

"Ha! here's Pere Leger, " cried the inn-keeper, when the coach pulledup before the door. "Do you breakfast?"

"Always once a day, " said the fat farmer; "and I'll break a crust hereand now. "

"Give us a good breakfast, " cried Georges, twirling his cane in acavalier manner which excited the admiration of poor Oscar. 

But that admiration was turned to jealousy when he saw the gayadventurer pull out from a side-pocket a small straw case, from whichhe selected a light-colored cigar, which he proceeded to smoke on thethreshold of the inn door while waiting for breakfast. 

"Do you smoke?" he asked of Oscar. 

"Sometimes, " replied the ex-schoolboy, swelling out his little chestand assuming a jaunty air. 

Georges presented the open case to Oscar and Schinner. 

"Phew!" said the great painter; "ten-sous cigars!"

"The remains of those I brought back from Spain, " said the adventurer. "Do you breakfast here?"

"No, " said the artist. "I am expected at the chateau. Besides, I tooksomething at the Lion d'Argent just before starting. "

"And you?" said Georges to Oscar. 

"I have breakfasted, " replied Oscar. 

Oscar would have given ten years of his life for boots and straps tohis trousers. He sneezed, he coughed, he spat, and swallowed the smokewith ill-disguised grimaces. 

"You don't know how to smoke, " said Schinner; "look at me!"

With a motionless face Schinner breathed in the smoke of his cigar andlet it out through his nose without the slightest contraction offeature. Then he took another whiff, kept the smoke in his throat, removed the cigar from his lips, and allowed the smoke slowly andgracefully to escape them. 

"There, young man, " said the great painter. 

"Here, young man, here's another way; watch this, " said Georges, imitating Schinner, but swallowing the smoke and exhaling none. 

"And my parents believed they had educated me!" thought Oscar, endeavoring to smoke with better grace. 

But his nausea was so strong that he was thankful when Mistigrisfilched his cigar, remarking, as he smoked it with evidentsatisfaction, "You haven't any contagious diseases, I hope. "

Oscar in reply would fain have punched his head. 

"How he does spend money!" he said, looking at Colonel Georges. "Eightfrancs for Alicante and the cheese-cakes; forty sous for cigars; andhis breakfast will cost him--"

"Ten francs at least, " replied Mistigris; "but that's how things are. 'Sharp stomachs make short purses. '"

"Come, Pere Leger, let us drink a bottle of Bordeaux together, " saidGeorges to the farmer. 

"Twenty francs for his breakfast!" cried Oscar; "in all, more thanthirty-odd francs since we started!"

Killed by a sense of his inferiority, Oscar sat down on a stone post, lost in a revery which did not allow him to perceive that histrousers, drawn up by the effect of his position, showed the point ofjunction between the old top of his stocking and the new "footing, "--his mother's handiwork. 

"We are brothers in socks, " said Mistigris, pulling up his owntrousers sufficiently to show an effect of the same kind, --"'By thefooting, Hercules. '"

The count, who overheard this, laughed as he stood with folded armsunder the porte-cochere, a little behind the other travellers. Howevernonsensical these lads might be, the grave statesman envied their veryfollies; he liked their bragging and enjoyed the fun of their livelychatter. 

"Well, are you to have Les Moulineaux? for I know you went to Paris toget the money for the purchase, " said the inn-keeper to Pere Leger, whom he had just taken to the stables to see a horse he wanted to sellto him. "It will be queer if you manage to fleece a peer of France anda minister of State like the Comte de Serizy. "

The person thus alluded to showed no sign upon his face as he turnedto look at the farmer. 

"I've done for him, " replied Pere Leger, in a low voice. 

"Good! I like to see those nobles fooled. If you should want twentythousand francs or so, I'll lend them to you-- But Francois, theconductor of Touchard's six o'clock coach, told me that MonsieurMargueron was invited by the Comte de Serizy to dine with him to-dayat Presles. "

"That was the plan of his Excellency, but we had our own little waysof thwarting it, " said the farmer, laughing. 

"The count could appoint Monsieur Margueron's son, and you haven't anyplace to give, --remember that, " said the inn-keeper. 

"Of course I do; but if the count has the ministry on his side, I haveKing Louis XVIII. , " said Pere Leger, in a low voice. "Forty thousandof his pictures on coin of the realm given to Moreau will enable me tobuy Les Moulineaux for two hundred and sixty thousand, money down, before Monsieur de Serizy can do so. When he finds the sale is made, he'll be glad enough to buy the farm for three hundred and sixtythousand, instead of letting me cut it up in small lots right in theheart of his property. "

"Well done, bourgeois!" cried the inn-keeper. 

"Don't you think that's good play?" said Leger. 

"Besides, " said the inn-keeper, "the farm is really worth that tohim. "

"Yes; Les Moulineaux brings in to-day six thousand francs in rental. I'll take another lease of it at seven thousand five hundred foreighteen years. Therefore it is really an investment at more than twoand a half per cent. The count can't complain of that. In order not toinvolve Moreau, he is himself to propose me as tenant and farmer; itgives him a look of acting for his master's interests by finding himnearly three per cent for his money, and a tenant who will pay well. "

"How much will Moreau make, in all?"

"Well, if the count gives him ten thousand francs for the transactionthe matter will bring him fifty thousand, --and well-earned, too. "

"After all, the count, so they tell me, doesn't like Presles. And thenhe is so rich, what does it matter what it costs him?" said theinn-keeper. "I have never seen him, myself. "

"Nor I, " said Pere Leger. "But he must be intending to live there, orwhy should he spend two hundred thousand francs in restoring thechateau? It is as fine now as the King's own palace. "

"Well, well, " said the inn-keeper, "it was high time for Moreau tofeather his nest. "

"Yes, for if the masters come there, " replied Leger, "they won't keeptheir eyes in their pockets. "

The count lost not a word of this conversation, which was held in alow voice, but not in a whisper. 

"Here I have actually found the proofs I was going down there toseek, " he thought, looking at the fat farmer as he entered thekitchen. "But perhaps, " he added, "it is only a scheme; Moreau may nothave listened to it. "

So unwilling was he to believe that his steward could lend himself tosuch a conspiracy. 

Pierrotin here came out to water his horses. The count, thinking thatthe driver would probably breakfast with the farmer and theinn-keeper, feared some thoughtless indiscretion. 

"All these people combine against us, " he thought; "it is allowable tobaffle them-- Pierrotin, " he said in a low voice as the man passedhim, "I promised you ten louis to keep my secret; but if you continueto conceal my name (and remember, I shall know if you pronounce it, ormake the slightest sign that reveals it to any one, no matter who, here or at Isle-Adam, before to-night), I will give you to-morrowmorning, on your return trip, the thousand francs you need to pay foryour new coach. Therefore, by way of precaution, " added the count, striking Pierrotin, who was pale with happiness, on the shoulder, "don't go in there to breakfast; stay with your horses. "

"Monsieur le comte, I understand you; don't be afraid! it relates toPere Leger, of course. "

"It relates to every one, " replied the count. 

"Make yourself easy. --Come, hurry, " said Pierrotin, a few momentslater, putting his head into the kitchen. "We are late. Pere Leger, you know there's a hill to climb; I'm not hungry, and I'll drive onslowly; you can soon overtake me, --it will do you good to walk a bit. "

"What a hurry you are in, Pierrotin!" said the inn-keeper. "Can't youstay and breakfast? The colonel here pays for the wine at fifty sous, and has ordered a bottle of champagne. "

"I can't. I've got a fish I must deliver by three o'clock for a greatdinner at Stors; there's no fooling with customers, or fishes, either. "

"Very good, " said Pere Leger to the inn-keeper. "You can harness thathorse you want to sell me into the cabriolet; we'll breakfast in peaceand overtake Pierrotin, and I can judge of the beast as we go along. We can go three in your jolter. "

To the count's surprise, Pierrotin himself rebridled the horses. Schinner and Mistigris had walked on. Scarcely had Pierrotin overtakenthe two artists and was mounting the hill from which Ecouen, thesteeple of Mesnil, and the forests that surround that most beautifulregion, came in sight, when the gallop of a horse and the jingling ofa vehicle announced the coming of Pere Leger and the grandson ofCzerni-Georges, who were soon restored to their places in the coucou. 

As Pierrotin drove down the narrow road to Moisselles, Georges, whohad so far not ceased to talk with the farmer of the beauty of thehostess at Saint-Brice, suddenly exclaimed: "Upon my word, thislandscape is not so bad, great painter, is it?"

"Pooh! you who have seen the East and Spain can't really admire it. "

"I've two cigars left! If no one objects, will you help me finishthem, Schinner? the little young man there seems to have found a whiffor two enough for him. "

Pere Leger and the count kept silence, which passed for consent. 

Oscar, furious at being called a "little young man, " remarked, as theother two were lighting their cigars:

"I am not the aide-de-camp of Mina, monsieur, and I have not yet beento the East, but I shall probably go there. The career to which myfamily destine me will spare me, I trust, the annoyances of travellingin a coucou before I reach your present age. When I once become apersonage I shall know how to maintain my station. "

"'Et caetera punctum!'" crowed Mistigris, imitating the hoarse voiceof a young cock; which made Oscar's deliverance all the more absurd, because he had just reached the age when the beard sprouts and thevoice breaks. "'What a chit for chat!'" added the rapin. 

"Your family, young man, destine you to some career, do they?" saidGeorges. "Might I ask what it is?"

"Diplomacy, " replied Oscar. 

Three bursts of laughter came from Mistigris, the great painter, andthe farmer. The count himself could not help smiling. Georges wasperfectly grave. 

"By Allah!" he exclaimed, "I see nothing to laugh at in that. Thoughit seems to me, young man, that your respectable mother is, at thepresent moment, not exactly in the social sphere of an ambassadress. She carried a handbag worthy of the utmost respect, and woreshoe-strings which--"

"My mother, monsieur!" exclaimed Oscar, in a tone of indignation. "That was the person in charge of our household. "

"'Our household' is a very aristocratic term, " remarked the count. 

"Kings have households, " replied Oscar, proudly. 

A look from Georges repressed the desire to laugh which tookpossession of everybody; he contrived to make Mistigris and thepainter understand that it was necessary to manage Oscar cleverly inorder to work this new mine of amusement. 

"Monsieur is right, " said the great Schinner to the count, motioningtowards Oscar. "Well-bred people always talk of their 'households'; itis only common persons like ourselves who say 'home. ' For a man socovered with decorations--"

"'Nunc my eye, nunc alii, '" whispered Mistigris. 

"--you seem to know little of the language of the courts. I ask yourfuture protection, Excellency, " added Schinner, turning to Oscar. 

"I congratulate myself on having travelled with three suchdistinguished men, " said the count, --"a painter already famous, afuture general, and a young diplomatist who may some day recoverBelgium for France. "

Having committed the odious crime of repudiating his mother, Oscar, furious from a sense that his companions were laughing at him, nowresolved, at any cost, to make them pay attention to him. 

"'All is not gold that glitters, '" he began, his eyes flaming. 

"That's not it, " said Mistigris. "'All is not old that titters. 'You'll never get on in diplomacy if you don't know your proverbsbetter than that. "

"I may not know proverbs, but I know my way--"

"It must be far, " said Georges, "for I saw that person in charge ofyour household give you provisions enough for an ocean voyage: rolls, chocolate--"

"A special kind of bread and chocolate, yes, monsieur, " returnedOscar; "my stomach is much too delicate to digest the victuals of atavern. "

"'Victuals' is a word as delicate and refined as your stomach, " saidGeorges. 

"Ah! I like that word 'victuals, '" cried the great painter. 

"The word is all the fashion in the best society, " said Mistigris. "Iuse it myself at the cafe of the Black Hen. "

"Your tutor is, doubtless, some celebrated professor, isn't he?--Monsieur Andrieux of the Academie Francaise, or MonsieurRoyer-Collard?" asked Schinner. 

"My tutor is or was the Abbe Loraux, now vicar of Saint-Sulpice, "replied Oscar, recollecting the name of the confessor at his school. 

"Well, you were right to take a private tutor, " said Mistigris. "'Tuto, tutor, celeritus, and jocund. ' Of course, you will reward himwell, your abbe?"

"Undoubtedly he will be made a bishop some day, " said Oscar. 

"By your family influence?" inquired Georges gravely. 

"We shall probably contribute to his rise, for the Abbe Frayssinous isconstantly at our house. "

"Ah! you know the Abbe Frayssinous?" asked the count. 

"He is under obligations to my father, " answered Oscar. 

"Are you on your way to your estate?" asked Georges. 

"No, monsieur; but I am able to say where I am going, if others arenot. I am going to the Chateau de Presles, to the Comte de Serizy. "

"The devil! are you going to Presles?" cried Schinner, turning as redas a cherry. 

"So you know his Excellency the Comte de Serizy?" said Georges. 

Pere Leger turned round to look at Oscar with a stupefied air. 

"Is Monsieur de Serizy at Presles?" he said. 

"Apparently, as I am going there, " replied Oscar. 

"Do you often see the count, " asked Monsieur de Serizy. 

"Often, " replied Oscar. "I am a comrade of his son, who is about myage, nineteen; we ride together on horseback nearly every day. "

"'Aut Caesar, aut Serizy, '" said Mistigris, sententiously. 

Pierrotin and Pere Leger exchanged winks on hearing this statement. 

"Really, " said the count to Oscar, "I am delighted to meet with ayoung man who can tell me about that personage. I want his influenceon a rather serious matter, although it would cost him nothing tooblige me. It concerns a claim I wish to press on the Americangovernment. I should be glad to obtain information about Monsieur deSerizy. "

"Oh! if you want to succeed, " replied Oscar, with a knowing look, "don't go to him, but go to his wife; he is madly in love with her; noone knows more than I do about that; but she can't endure him. "

"Why not?" said Georges. 

"The count has a skin disease which makes him hideous. Doctor Alberthas tried in vain to cure it. The count would give half his fortune ifhe had a chest like mine, " said Oscar, swelling himself out. "He livesa lonely life in his own house; gets up very early in the morning andworks from three to eight o'clock; after eight he takes his remedies, --sulphur-baths, steam-baths, and such things. His valet bakes him ina sort of iron box--for he is always in hopes of getting cured. "

"If he is such a friend of the King as they say he is, why doesn't heget his Majesty to touch him?" asked Georges. 

"The count has lately promised thirty thousand francs to a celebratedScotch doctor who is coming over to treat him, " continued Oscar. 

"Then his wife can't be blamed if she finds better--" said Schinner, but he did not finish his sentence. 

"I should say so!" resumed Oscar. "The poor man is so shrivelled andold you would take him for eighty! He's as dry as parchment, and, unluckily for him, he feels his position. "

"Most men would, " said Pere Leger. 

"He adores his wife and dares not find fault with her, " pursued Oscar, rejoicing to have found a topic to which they listened. "He playsscenes with her which would make you die of laughing, --exactly likeArnolphe in Moliere's comedy. "

The count, horror-stricken, looked at Pierrotin, who, finding that thecount said nothing, concluded that Madame Clapart's son was tellingfalsehoods. 

"So, monsieur, " continued Oscar, "if you want the count's influence, Iadvise you to apply to the Marquis d'Aiglemont. If you get that formeradorer of Madame de Serizy on your side, you will win husband and wifeat one stroke. "

"Look here!" said the painter, "you seem to have seen the countwithout his clothes; are you his valet?"

"His valet!" cried Oscar. 

"Hang it! people don't tell such things about their friends in publicconveyances, " exclaimed Mistigris. "As for me, I'm not listening toyou; I'm deaf: 'discretion plays the better part of adder. '"

"'A poet is nasty and not fit, ' and so is a tale-bearer, " criedSchinner. 

"Great painter, " said Georges, sententiously, "learn this: you can'tsay harm of people you don't know. Now the little one here has proved, indubitably, that he knows his Serizy by heart. If he had told usabout the countess, perhaps--?"

"Stop! not a word about the Comtesse de Serizy, young men, " cried thecount. "I am a friend of her brother, the Marquis de Ronquerolles, andwhoever attempts to speak disparagingly of the countess must answer tome. "

"Monsieur is right, " cried the painter; "no man should blaguer women. "

"God, Honor, and the Ladies! I believe in that melodrama, " saidMistigris. 

"I don't know the guerrilla chieftain, Mina, but I know the Keeper ofthe Seals, " continued the count, looking at Georges; "and though Idon't wear my decorations, " he added, looking at the painter, "Iprevent those who do not deserve them from obtaining any. And finally, let me say that I know so many persons that I even know MonsieurGrindot, the architect of Presles. Pierrotin, stop at the next inn; Iwant to get out a moment. "

Pierrotin hurried his horses through the village street of Moisselles, at the end of which was the inn where all travellers stopped. Thisshort distance was done in silence. 

"Where is that young fool going?" asked the count, drawing Pierrotininto the inn-yard. 

"To your steward. He is the son of a poor lady who lives in the rue dela Cerisaie, to whom I often carry fruit, and game, and poultry fromPresles. She is a Madame Husson. "

"Who is that man?" inquired Pere Leger of Pierrotin when the count hadleft him. 

"Faith, I don't know, " replied Pierrotin; "this is the first time Ihave driven him. I shouldn't be surprised if he was that prince whoowns Maffliers. He has just told me to leave him on the road nearthere; he doesn't want to go on to Isle-Adam. "

"Pierrotin thinks he is the master of Maffliers, " said Pere Leger, addressing Georges when he got back into the coach. 

The three young fellows were now as dull as thieves caught in the act;they dared not look at each other, and were evidently considering theconsequences of their fibs. 

"This is what is called 'suffering for license sake, '" said Mistigris. 

"You see I did know the count, " said Oscar. 

"Possibly. But you'll never be an ambassador, " replied Georges. "Whenpeople want to talk in public conveyances, they ought to be careful, like me, to talk without saying anything. "

"That's what speech is for, " remarked Mistigris, by way of conclusion. 

The count returned to his seat and the coucou rolled on amid thedeepest silence. 

"Well, my friends, " said the count, when they reached the Carreauwoods, "here we all are, as silent as if we were going to thescaffold. "

"'Silence gives content, '" muttered Mistigris. 

"The weather is fine, " said Georges. 

"What place is that?" said Oscar, pointing to the chateau deFranconville, which produces a fine effect at that particular spot, backed, as it is, by the noble forest of Saint-Martin. 

"How is it, " cried the count, "that you, who say you go so often toPresles, do not know Franconville?"

"Monsieur knows men, not castles, " said Mistigris. 

"Budding diplomatists have so much else to take their minds, " remarkedGeorges. 

"Be so good as to remember my name, " replied Oscar, furious. "I amOscar Husson, and ten years hence I shall be famous. "

After that speech, uttered with bombastic assumption, Oscar flunghimself back in his corner. 

"Husson of what, of where?" asked Mistigris. 

"It is a great family, " replied the count. "Husson de la Cerisaie;monsieur was born beneath the steps of the Imperial throne. "

Oscar colored crimson to the roots of his hair, and was penetratedthrough and through with a dreadful foreboding. 

They were now about to descend the steep hill of La Cave, at the footof which, in a narrow valley, flanked by the forest of Saint-Martin, stands the magnificent chateau of Presles. 

"Messieurs, " said the count, "I wish you every good fortune in yourvarious careers. Monsieur le colonel, make your peace with the King ofFrance; the Czerni-Georges ought not to snub the Bourbons. I havenothing to wish for you, my dear Monsieur Schinner; your fame isalready won, and nobly won by splendid work. But you are much to befeared in domestic life, and I, being a married man, dare not inviteyou to my house. As for Monsieur Husson, he needs no protection; hepossesses the secrets of statesmen and can make them tremble. MonsieurLeger is about to pluck the Comte de Serizy, and I can only exhort himto do it with a firm hand. Pierrotin, put me out here, and pick me upat the same place to-morrow, " added the count, who then left the coachand took a path through the woods, leaving his late companionsconfused and bewildered. 

"He must be that count who has hired Franconville; that's the path toit, " said Leger. 

"If ever again, " said the false Schinner, "I am caught blague-ing in apublic coach, I'll fight a duel with myself. It was your fault, Mistigris, " giving his rapin a tap on the head. 

"All I did was to help you out, and follow you to Venice, " saidMistigris; "but that's always the way, 'Fortune belabors the slave. '"

"Let me tell you, " said Georges to his neighbor Oscar, "that if, bychance, that was the Comte de Serizy, I wouldn't be in your skin for agood deal, healthy as you think it. "

Oscar, remembering his mother's injunctions, which these wordsrecalled to his mind, turned pale and came to his senses. 

"Here you are, messieurs!" cried Pierrotin, pulling up at a fine irongate. 

"Here we are--where?" said the painter, and Georges, and Oscar all atonce. 

"Well, well!" exclaimed Pierrotin, "if that doesn't beat all! Ah ca, monsieurs, have none of you been here before? Why, this is the chateaude Presles. "

"Oh, yes; all right, friend, " said Georges, recovering his audacity. "But I happen to be going on to Les Moulineaux, " he added, not wishinghis companions to know that he was really going to the chateau. 

"You don't say so? Then you are coming to me, " said Pere Leger. 

"How so?"

"Why, I'm the farmer at Moulineaux. Hey, colonel, what brings youthere?"

"To taste your butter, " said Georges, pulling out his portfolio. 

"Pierrotin, " said Oscar, "leave my things at the steward's. I am goingstraight to the chateau. "

Whereupon Oscar plunged into a narrow path, not knowing, in the least, where he was going. 

"Hi! Monsieur l'ambassadeur, " cried Pere Leger, "that's the way to theforest; if you really want to get to the chateau, go through thelittle gate. "

Thus compelled to enter, Oscar disappeared into the grand court-yard. While Pere Leger stood watching Oscar, Georges, utterly confounded bythe discovery that the farmer was the present occupant of LesMoulineaux, has slipped away so adroitly that when the fat countrymanlooked round for his colonel there was no sign of him. 

The iron gates opened at Pierrotin's demand, and he proudly drove into deposit with the concierge the thousand and one utensils belongingto the great Schinner. Oscar was thunderstruck when he became awarethat Mistigris and his master, the witnesses of his bravado, were tobe installed in the chateau itself. In ten minutes Pierrotin haddischarged the various packages of the painter, the bundles of OscarHusson, and the pretty little leather portmanteau, which he took fromits nest of hay and confided mysteriously to the wife of theconcierge. Then he drove out of the courtyard, cracking his whip, andtook the road that led through the forest to Isle-Adam, his facebeaming with the sly expression of a peasant who calculates hisprofits. Nothing was lacking now to his happiness; on the morrow hewould have his thousand francs, and, as a consequence, his magnificentnew coach. 

 CHAPTER VI

 THE MOREAU INTERIOR

Oscar, somewhat abashed, was skulking behind a clump of trees in thecentre of the court-yard, and watching to see what became of his tworoad-companions, when Monsieur Moreau suddenly came out upon theportico from what was called the guard-room. He was dressed in a longblue overcoat which came to his heels, breeches of yellowish leatherand top-boots, and in his hand he carried a riding-whip. 

"Ah! my boy, so here you are? How is the dear mamma?" he said, takingOscar by the hand. "Good-day, messieurs, " he added to Mistigris andhis master, who then came forward. "You are, no doubt, the twopainters whom Monsieur Grindot, the architect, told me to expect. "

He whistled twice at the end of his whip; the concierge came. 

"Take these gentlemen to rooms 14 and 15. Madame Moreau will give youthe keys. Go with them to show the way; make fires there, ifnecessary, and take up all their things. I have orders from Monsieurle comte, " he added, addressing the two young men, "to invite you tomy table, messieurs; we dine at five, as in Paris. If you likehunting, you will find plenty to amuse you; I have a license from theEaux et Forets; and we hunt over twelve thousand acres of forest, notcounting our own domain. "

Oscar, the painter, and Mistigris, all more or less subdued, exchangedglances, but Mistigris, faithful to himself, remarked in a low tone, "'Veni, vidi, cecidi, --I came, I saw, I slaughtered. '"

Oscar followed the steward, who led him along at a rapid pace throughthe park. 

"Jacques, " said Moreau to one of his children whom they met, "run inand tell your mother that little Husson has come, and say to her thatI am obliged to go to Les Moulineaux for a moment. "

The steward, then about fifty years old, was a dark man of mediumheight, and seemed stern. His bilious complexion, to which countryhabits had added a certain violent coloring, conveyed, at first sight, the impression of a nature which was other than his own. His blue eyesand a large crow-beaked nose gave him an air that was the morethreatening because his eyes were placed too close together. But hislarge lips, the outline of his face, and the easy good-humor of hismanner soon showed that his nature was a kindly one. Abrupt in speechand decided in tone, he impressed Oscar immensely by the force of hispenetration, inspired, no doubt, by the affection which he felt forthe boy. Trained by his mother to magnify the steward, Oscar hadalways felt himself very small in Moreau's presence; but on reachingPresles a new sensation came over him, as if he expected some harmfrom this fatherly figure, his only protector. 

"Well, my Oscar, you don't look pleased at getting here, " said thesteward. "And yet you'll find plenty of amusement; you shall learn toride on horseback, and shoot, and hunt. "

"I don't know any of those things, " said Oscar, stupidly. 

"But I brought you here to learn them. "

"Mamma told me only to stay two weeks because of Madame Moreau. "

"Oh! we'll see about that, " replied Moreau, rather wounded that hisconjugal authority was doubted. 

Moreau's youngest son, an active, strapping lad of twelve, here ranup. 

"Come, " said his father, "take Oscar to your mother. "

He himself went rapidly along the shortest path to the gamekeeper'shouse, which was situated between the park and the forest. 

The pavilion, or lodge, in which the count had established hissteward, was built a few years before the Revolution. It stood in thecentre of a large garden, one wall of which adjoined the court-yard ofthe stables and offices of the chateau itself. Formerly its chiefentrance was on the main road to the village. But after the count'sfather bought the building, he closed that entrance and united theplace with his own property. 

The house, built of freestone, in the style of the period of Louis XV. (it is enough to say that its exterior decoration consisted of a stonedrapery beneath the windows, as in the colonnades of the Place LouisXV. , the flutings of which were stiff and ungainly), had on theground-floor a fine salon opening into a bedroom, and a dining-roomconnected with a billiard-room. These rooms, lying parallel to oneanother, were separated by a staircase, in front of which was a sortof peristyle which formed an entrance-hall, on which the two suits ofrooms on either side opened. The kitchen was beneath the dining-room, for the whole building was raised ten steps from the ground level. 

By placing her own bedroom on the first floor above the ground-floor, Madame Moreau was able to transform the chamber adjoining the saloninto a boudoir. These two rooms were richly furnished with beautifulpieces culled from the rare old furniture of the chateau. The salon, hung with blue and white damask, formerly the curtains of thestate-bed, was draped with ample portieres and window curtains linedwith white silk. Pictures, evidently from old panels, plant-stands, various pretty articles of modern upholstery, handsome lamps, and arare old cut-glass chandelier, gave a grandiose appearance to the room. The carpet was a Persian rug. The boudoir, wholly modern, and furnishedentirely after Madame Moreau's own taste, was arranged in imitation ofa tent, with ropes of blue silk on a gray background. The classicdivan was there, of course, with its pillows and footstools. Theplant-stands, taken care of by the head-gardener of Presles, rejoicedthe eye with their pyramids of bloom. The dining-room and billiard-roomwere furnished in mahogany. 

Around the house the steward's wife had laid out a beautiful garden, carefully cultivated, which opened into the great park. Groups ofchoice parks hid the offices and stables. To improve the entrance bywhich visitors came to see her, she had substituted a handsome irongateway for the shabby railing, which she discarded. 

The dependence in which the situation of their dwelling placed theMoreaus, was thus adroitly concealed, and they seemed all the morelike rich and independent persons taking care of the property of afriend, because neither the count nor the countess ever came toPresles to take down their pretensions. Moreover, the perquisitesgranted by Monsieur de Serizy allowed them to live in the midst ofthat abundance which is the luxury of country life. Milk, eggs, poultry, game, fruits, flowers, forage, vegetables, wood, the stewardand his wife used in profusion, buying absolutely nothing butbutcher's-meat, wines, and the colonial supplies required by theirlife of luxury. The poultry-maid baked their bread; and of late yearsMoreau had paid his butcher with pigs from the farm, after reservingthose he needed for his own use. 

On one occasion, the countess, always kind and good to her formermaid, gave her, as a souvenir perhaps, a little travelling-carriage, the fashion of which was out of date. Moreau had it repainted, and nowdrove his wife about the country with two good horses which belongedto the farm. Besides these horses, Moreau had his own saddle-horse. Hedid enough farming on the count's property to keep the horses andmaintain his servants. He stacked three hundred tons of excellent hay, but accounted for only one hundred, making use of a vague permissiononce granted by the count. He kept his poultry-yard, pigeon-cotes, andcattle at the cost of the estate, but the manure of the stables wasused by the count's gardeners. All these little stealings had someostensible excuse. 

Madame Moreau had taken into her service a daughter of one of thegardeners, who was first her maid and afterwards her cook. Thepoultry-game, also the dairy-maid, assisted in the work of thehousehold; and the steward had hired a discharged soldier to groom thehorses and do the heavy labor. 

At Nerville, Chaumont, Maffliers, Nointel, and other places of theneighborhood, the handsome wife of the steward was received by personswho either did not know, or pretended not to know her previouscondition. Moreau did services to many persons. He induced his masterto agree to certain things which seem trifles in Paris, but are reallyof immense importance in the country. After bringing about theappointment of a certain "juge de paix" at Beaumont and also atIsle-Adam, he had, in the same year, prevented the dismissal of akeeper-general of the Forests, and obtained the cross of the Legion ofhonor for the first cavalry-sergeant at Beaumont. Consequently, nofestivity was ever given among the bourgeoisie to which Monsieur andMadame Moreau were not invited. The rector of Presles and the mayor ofPresles came every evening to play cards with them. It is difficultfor a man not to be kind and hospitable after feathering his nest socomfortably. 

A pretty woman, and an affected one, as all retired waiting-maids ofgreat ladies are, for after they are married they imitate theirmistresses, Madame Moreau imported from Paris all the new fashions. She wore expensive boots, and never was seen on foot, except, occasionally, in the finest weather. Though her husband allowed butfive hundred francs a year for her toilet, that sum is immense in theprovinces, especially if well laid out. So that Madame Moreau, fair, rosy, and fresh, about thirty-six years of age, still slender anddelicate in shape in spite of her three children, played the younggirl and gave herself the airs of a princess. If, when she drove by inher caleche, some stranger had asked, "Who is she?" Madame Moreauwould have been furious had she heard the reply: "The wife of thesteward at Presles. " She wished to be taken for the mistress of thechateau. In the villages, she patronized the people in the tone of agreat lady. The influence of her husband over the count, proved in somany years, prevented the small bourgeoisie from laughing at MadameMoreau, who, in the eyes of the peasants, was really a personage. 

Estelle (her name was Estelle) took no more part in the affairs of thestewardship then the wife of a broker does in her husband's affairs atthe Bourse. She even depended on Moreau for the care of the householdand their own fortune. Confident of his _means_, she was a thousandleagues from dreaming that this comfortable existence, which hadlasted for seventeen years, could ever be endangered. And yet, whenshe heard of the count's determination to restore the magnificentchateau, she felt that her enjoyments were threatened, and she urgedher husband to come to the arrangement with Leger about LesMoulineaux, so that they might retire from Presles and live atIsle-Adam. She had no intention of returning to a position that wasmore or less that of a servant in presence of her former mistress, who, indeed, would have laughed to see her established in the lodge withall the airs and graces of a woman of the world. 

The rancorous enmity which existed between the Reyberts and theMoreaus came from a wound inflicted by Madame de Reybert upon MadameMoreau on the first occasion when the latter assumed precedence overthe former on her first arrival at Presles, the wife of the stewardbeing determined not to allow her supremacy to be undermined by awoman nee de Corroy. Madame de Reybert thereupon reminded, or, perhaps, informed the whole country-side of Madame Moreau's formerstation. The words "waiting-maid" flew from lip to lip. The enviousacquaintances of the Moreaus throughout the neighborhood from Beaumontto Moisselles, began to carp and criticize with such eagerness that afew sparks of the conflagration fell into the Moreau household. Forfour years the Reyberts, cut dead by the handsome Estelle, foundthemselves the objects of so much animadversion on the part of theadherents of the Moreaus that their position at Presles would not havebeen endurable without the thought of vengeance which had, so far, supported them. 

The Moreaus, who were very friendly with Grindot the architect, hadreceived notice from him of the early arrival of the two painters sentdown to finish the decorations of the chateau, the principal paintingsfor which were just completed by Schinner. The great painter hadrecommended for this work the artist who was accompanied by Mistigris. For two days past Madame Moreau had been on the tiptoe of expectation, and had put herself under arms to receive him. An artist, who was tobe her guest and companion for weeks, demanded some effort. Schinnerand his wife had their own apartment at the chateau, where, by thecount's express orders, they were treated with all the considerationdue to himself. Grindot, who stayed at the steward's house, showedsuch respect for the great artist that neither the steward nor hiswife had attempted to put themselves on familiar terms with him. Moreover, the noblest and richest people in the surrounding countryhad vied with each other in paying attention to Schinner and his wife. So, very well pleased to have, as it were, a little revenge of herown, Madame Moreau was determined to cry up the artist she was nowexpecting, and to present him to her social circle as equal in talentto the great Schinner. 

Though for two days past Moreau's pretty wife had arrayed herselfcoquettishly, the prettiest of her toilets had been reserved for thisvery Saturday, when, as she felt no doubt, the artist would arrive fordinner. A pink gown in very narrow stripes, a pink belt with a richlychased gold buckle, a velvet ribbon and cross at her throat, andvelvet bracelets on her bare arms (Madame de Serizy had handsome armsand showed them much), together with bronze kid shoes and threadstockings, gave Madame Moreau all the appearance of an elegantParisian. She wore, also, a superb bonnet of Leghorn straw, trimmedwith a bunch of moss roses from Nattier's, beneath the spreading sidesof which rippled the curls of her beautiful blond hair. 

After ordering a very choice dinner and reviewing the condition of herrooms, she walked about the grounds, so as to be seen standing near aflower-bed in the court-yard of the chateau, like the mistress of thehouse, on the arrival of the coach from Paris. She held above her heada charming rose-colored parasol lined with white silk and fringed. Seeing that Pierrotin merely left Mistigris's queer packages with theconcierge, having, apparently, brought no passengers, Estelle retireddisappointed and regretting the trouble of making her useless toilet. Like many persons who are dressed in their best, she felt incapable ofany other occupation than that of sitting idly in her salon awaitingthe coach from Beaumont, which usually passed about an hour after thatof Pierrotin, though it did not leave Paris till mid-day. She was, therefore, in her own apartment when the two artists walked up to thechateau, and were sent by Moreau himself to their rooms where theymade their regulation toilet for dinner. The pair had asked questionsof their guide, the gardener, who told them so much of Moreau's beautythat they felt the necessity of "rigging themselves up" (studioslang). They, therefore, put on their most superlative suits and thenwalked over to the steward's lodge, piloted by Jacques Moreau, theeldest son, a hardy youth, dressed like an English boy in a handsomejacket with a turned-over collar, who was spending his vacation like afish in water on the estate where his father and mother reigned asaristocrats. 

"Mamma, " he said, "here are the two artists sent down by MonsieurSchinner. "

Madame Moreau, agreeably surprised, rose, told her son to placechairs, and began to display her graces. 

"Mamma, the Husson boy is with papa, " added the lad; "shall I fetchhim?"

"You need not hurry; go and play with him, " said his mother. 

The remark "you need not hurry" proved to the two artists theunimportance of their late travelling companion in the eyes of theirhostess; but it also showed, what they did not know, the feeling of astep-mother against a step-son. Madame Moreau, after seventeen yearsof married life, could not be ignorant of the steward's attachment toMadame Clapart and the little Husson, and she hated both mother andchild so vehemently that it is not surprising that Moreau had neverbefore risked bringing Oscar to Presles. 

"We are requested, my husband and myself, " she said to the twoartists, "to do you the honors of the chateau. We both love art, and, above all, artists, " she added in a mincing tone; "and I beg you tomake yourselves at home here. In the country, you know, every oneshould be at their ease; one must feel wholly at liberty, or life is_too_ insipid. We have already had Monsieur Schinner with us. "

Mistigris gave a sly glance at his companion. 

"You know him, of course?" continued Estelle, after a slight pause. 

"Who does not know him, madame?" said the painter. 

"Knows him like his double, " remarked Mistigris. 

"Monsieur Grindot told me your name, " said Madame Moreau to thepainter. "But--"

"Joseph Bridau, " he replied, wondering with what sort of woman he hadto do. 

Mistigris began to rebel internally against the patronizing manner ofthe steward's wife; but he waited, like Bridau, for some word whichmight give him his cue; one of those words "de singe a dauphin" whichartists, cruel, born-observers of the ridiculous--the pabulum of theirpencils--seize with such avidity. Meantime Estelle's clumsy hands andfeet struck their eyes, and presently a word, or phrase or two, betrayed her past, and quite out of keeping with the elegance of herdress, made the two young fellows aware of their prey. A single glanceat each other was enough to arrange a scheme that they should takeEstelle seriously on her own ground, and thus find amusement enoughduring the time of their stay. 

"You say you love art, madame; perhaps you cultivate it successfully, "said Joseph Bridau. 

"No. Without being neglected, my education was purely commercial; butI have so profound and delicate a sense of art that Monsieur Schinneralways asked me, when he had finished a piece of work, to give him myopinion on it. "

"Just as Moliere consulted La Foret, " said Mistigris. 

Not knowing that La Foret was Moliere's servant-woman, Madame Moreauinclined her head graciously, showing that in her ignorance sheaccepted the speech as a compliment. 

"Didn't he propose to 'croquer' you?" asked Bridau. "Painters areeager enough after handsome women. "

"What may you mean by such language?"

"In the studios we say croquer, craunch, nibble, for sketching, "interposed Mistigris, with an insinuating air, "and we are alwayswanting to croquer beautiful heads. That's the origin of theexpression, 'She is pretty enough to eat. '"

"I was not aware of the origin of the term, " she replied, with thesweetest glance at Mistigris. 

"My pupil here, " said Bridau, "Monsieur Leon de Lora, shows aremarkable talent for portraiture. He would be too happy, I know, toleave you a souvenir of our stay by painting your charming head, madame. "

Joseph Bridau made a sign to Mistigris which meant: "Come, sail in, and push the matter; she is not so bad in looks, this woman. "

Accepting the glance, Leon de Lora slid down upon the sofa besideEstelle and took her hand, which she permitted. 

"Oh! madame, if you would like to offer a surprise to your husband, and will give me a few secret sittings I would endeavor to surpassmyself. You are so beautiful, so fresh, so charming! A man without anytalent might become a genius in painting you. He would draw from youreyes--"

"We must paint your dear children in the arabesques, " said Bridau, interrupting Mistigris. 

"I would rather have them in the salon; but perhaps I am indiscreet inasking it, " she replied, looking at Bridau coquettishly. 

"Beauty, madame, is a sovereign whom all painters worship; it hasunlimited claims upon them. "

"They are both charming, " thought Madame Moreau. "Do you enjoydriving? Shall I take you through the woods, after dinner, in mycarriage?"

"Oh! oh! oh!" cried Mistigris, in three ecstatic tones. "Why, Presleswill prove our terrestrial paradise. "

"With an Eve, a fair, young, fascinating woman, " added Bridau. 

Just as Madame Moreau was bridling, and soaring to the seventh heaven, she was recalled like a kite by a twitch at its line. 

"Madame!" cried her maid-servant, bursting into the room. 

"Rosalie, " said her mistress, "who allowed you to come here withoutbeing sent for?"

Rosalie paid no heed to the rebuke, but whispered in her mistress'sear:--

"The count is at the chateau. "

"Has he asked for me?" said the steward's wife. 

"No, madame; but he wants his trunk and the key of his apartment. "

"Then give them to him, " she replied, making an impatient gesture tohide her real trouble. 

"Mamma! here's Oscar Husson, " said her youngest son, bringing inOscar, who turned as red as a poppy on seeing the two artists inevening dress. 

"Oh! so you have come, my little Oscar, " said Estelle, stiffly. "Ihope you will now go and dress, " she added, after looking at himcontemptuously from head to foot. "Your mother, I presume, has notaccustomed you to dine in such clothes as those. "

"Oh!" cried the cruel Mistigris, "a future diplomatist knows thesaying that 'two coats are better than none. '"

"How do you mean, a future diplomatist?" exclaimed Madame Moreau. 

Poor Oscar had tears in his eyes as he looked in turn from Joseph toLeon. 

"Merely a joke made in travelling, " replied Joseph, who wanted to saveOscar's feelings out of pity. 

"The boy just wanted to be funny like the rest of us, and he blagued, that's all, " said Mistigris. 

"Madame, " said Rosalie, returning to the door of the salon, "hisExcellency has ordered dinner for eight, and wants it served at sixo'clock. What are we to do?"

During Estelle's conference with her head-woman the two artists andOscar looked at each other in consternation; their glances wereexpressive of terrible apprehension. 

"His Excellency! who is he?" said Joseph Bridau. 

"Why, Monsieur le Comte de Serizy, of course, " replied little Moreau. 

"Could it have been the count in the coucou?" said Leon de Lora. 

"Oh!" exclaimed Oscar, "the Comte de Serizy always travels in his owncarriage with four horses. "

"How did the Comte de Serizy get here?" said the painter to MadameMoreau, when she returned, much discomfited, to the salon. 

"I am sure I do not know, " she said. "I cannot explain to myself thissudden arrival; nor do I know what has brought him-- And Moreau nothere!"

"His Excellency wishes Monsieur Schinner to come over to the chateau, "said the gardener, coming to the door of the salon. "And he begsMonsieur Schinner to give him the pleasure to dine with him; alsoMonsieur Mistigris. "

"Done for!" cried the rapin, laughing. "He whom we took for abourgeois in the coucou was the count. You may well say: 'Sour are thecurses of perversity. '"

Oscar was very nearly changed to a pillar of salt; for, at thisrevelation, his throat felt saltier than the sea. 

"And you, who talked to him about his wife's lovers and his skindiseases!" said Mistigris, turning on Oscar. 

"What does he mean?" exclaimed the steward's wife, gazing after thetwo artists, who went away laughing at the expression of Oscar's face. 

Oscar remained dumb, confounded, stupefied, hearing nothing, thoughMadame Moreau questioned him and shook him violently by his arm, whichshe caught and squeezed. She gained nothing, however, and was forcedto leave him in the salon without an answer, for Rosalie appearedagain, to ask for linen and silver, and to beg she would go herselfand see that the multiplied orders of the count were executed. All thehousehold, together with the gardeners and the concierge and his wife, were going and coming in a confusion that may readily be imagined. Themaster had fallen upon his own house like a bombshell. 

From the top of the hill near La Cave, where he left the coach, thecount had gone, by the path through the woods well-known to him, tothe house of his gamekeeper. The keeper was amazed when he saw hisreal master. 

"Is Moreau here?" said the count. "I see his horse. "

"No, monseigneur; he means to go to Moulineaux before dinner, and hehas left his horse here while he went to the chateau to give a feworders. "

"If you value your place, " said the count, "you will take that horseand ride at once to Beaumont, where you will deliver to MonsieurMargueron the note that I shall now write. "

So saying the count entered the keeper's lodge and wrote a line, folding it in a way impossible to open without detection, and gave itto the man as soon as he saw him in the saddle. 

"Not a word to any one, " he said, "and as for you, madame, " he addedto the gamekeeper's wife, "if Moreau comes back for his horse, tellhim merely that I have taken it. "

The count then crossed the park and entered the court-yard of thechateau through the iron gates. However worn-out a man may be by thewear and tear of public life, by his own emotions, by his own mistakesand disappointments, the soul of any man able to love deeply at thecount's age is still young and sensitive to treachery. Monsieur deSerizy had felt such pain at the thought that Moreau had deceived him, that even after hearing the conversation at Saint-Brice he thought himless an accomplice of Leger and the notary than their tool. On thethreshold of the inn, and while that conversation was still going on, he thought of pardoning his steward after giving him a good reproof. Strange to say, the dishonesty of his confidential agent occupied hismind as a mere episode from the moment when Oscar revealed hisinfirmities. Secrets so carefully guarded could only have beenrevealed by Moreau, who had, no doubt, laughed over the hiddentroubles of his benefactor with either Madame de Serizy's former maidor with the Aspasia of the Directory. 

As he walked along the wood-path, this peer of France, this statesman, wept as young men weep; he wept his last tears. All human feelingswere so cruelly hurt by one stroke that the usually calm man staggeredthrough his park like a wounded deer. 

When Moreau arrived at the gamekeeper's lodge and asked for his horse, the keeper's wife replied:--

"Monsieur le comte has just taken it. "

"Monsieur le comte!" cried Moreau. "Whom do you mean?"

"Why, the Comte de Serizy, our master, " she replied. "He is probablyat the chateau by this time, " she added, anxious to be rid of thesteward, who, unable to understand the meaning of her words, turnedback towards the chateau. 

But he presently turned again and came back to the lodge, intending toquestion the woman more closely; for he began to see something seriousin this secret arrival, and the apparently strange method of hismaster's return. But the wife of the gamekeeper, alarmed to findherself caught in a vise between the count and his steward, had lockedherself into the house, resolved not to open to any but her husband. Moreau, more and more uneasy, ran rapidly, in spite of his boots andspurs, to the chateau, where he was told that the count was dressing. 

"Seven persons invited to dinner!" cried Rosalie as soon as she sawhim. 

Moreau then went through the offices to his own house. On his way hemet the poultry-girl, who was having an altercation with a handsomeyoung man. 

"Monsieur le comte particularly told me a colonel, an aide-de-camp ofMina, " insisted the girl. 

"I am not a colonel, " replied Georges. 

"But isn't your name Georges?"

"What's all this?" said the steward, intervening. 

"Monsieur, my name is Georges Marest; I am the son of a rich wholesaleironmonger in the rue Saint-Martin; I come on business to Monsieur leComte de Serizy from Maitre Crottat, a notary, whose second clerk Iam. "

"And I, " said the girl, "am telling him that monseigneur said to me:'There'll come a colonel named Czerni-Georges, aide-de-camp to Mina;he'll come by Pierrotin's coach; if he asks for me show him into thewaiting-room. '"

"Evidently, " said the clerk, "the count is a traveller who came downwith us in Pierrotin's coucou; if it hadn't been for the politeness ofa young man he'd have come as a rabbit. "

"A rabbit! in Pierrotin's coucou!" exclaimed Moreau and thepoultry-girl together. 

"I am sure of it, from what this girl is now saying, " said Georges. 

"How so?" asked the steward. 

"Ah! that's the point, " cried the clerk. "To hoax the travellers andhave a bit of fun I told them a lot of stuff about Egypt and Greeceand Spain. As I happened to be wearing spurs I have myself out for acolonel of cavalry: pure nonsense!"

"Tell me, " said Moreau, "what did this traveller you take to beMonsieur le comte look like?"

"Face like a brick, " said Georges, "hair snow-white, and blackeyebrows. "

"That is he!"

"Then I'm lost!" exclaimed Georges. 

"Why?"

"Oh, I chaffed him about his decorations. "

"Pooh! he's a good fellow; you probably amused him. Come at once tothe chateau. I'll go in and see his Excellency. Where did you say heleft the coach?"

"At the top of the mountain. "

"I don't know what to make of it!"

"After all, " thought Georges, "though I did blague him, I didn't sayanything insulting. "

"Why have you come here?" asked the steward. 

"I have brought the deed of sale for the farm at Moulineaux, all readyfor signature. "

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the steward, "I don't understand one word ofall this!"

Moreau felt his heart beat painfully when, after giving two raps onhis master's door, he heard the words:--

"Is that you, _Monsieur_ Moreau?"

"Yes, monseigneur. "

"Come in. "

The count was now wearing a pair of white trousers and thin boots, awhite waistcoat and a black coat on which shone the grand cross of theLegion upon the right breast, and fastened to a buttonhole on the leftwas the order of the Golden Fleece hanging by a short gold chain. Hehad arranged his hair himself, and had, no doubt, put himself in fulldress to do the honors of Presles to Monsieur Margueron; and, possibly, to impress the good man's mind with a prestige of grandeur. 

"Well, monsieur, " said the count, who remained seated, leaving Moreauto stand before him. "We have not concluded that purchase fromMargueron. "

"He asks too much for the farm at the present moment. "

"But why is he not coming to dinner as I requested?"

"Monseigneur, he is ill. "

"Are you sure?"

"I have just come from there. "

"Monsieur, " said the count, with a stern air which was reallyterrible, "what would you do with a man whom you trusted, if, afterseeing you dress wounds which you desired to keep secret from all theworld, he should reveal your misfortunes and laugh at your malady witha strumpet?"

"I would thrash him for it. "

"And if you discovered that he was also betraying your confidence androbbing you?"

"I should endeavor to detect him, and send him to the galleys. "

"Monsieur Moreau, listen to me. You have undoubtedly spoken of myinfirmities to Madame Clapart; you have laughed at her house, and withher, over my attachment to the Comtesse de Serizy; for her son, littleHusson, told a number of circumstances relating to my medicaltreatment, to travellers by a public conveyance in my presence, andHeaven knows in what language! He dared to calumniate my wife. Besidesthis, I learned from the lips of Pere Leger himself, who was in thecoach, of the plan laid by the notary at Beaumont and by you and byhimself in relation to Les Moulineaux. If you have been, as you say, to Monsieur Margueron, it was to tell him to feign illness. He is solittle ill that he is coming here to dinner this evening. Now, monsieur, I could pardon you having made two hundred and fiftythousand francs out of your situation in seventeen years, --I canunderstand that. You might each time have asked me for what you took, and I would have given it to you; but let that pass. You have been, notwithstanding this disloyalty, better than others, as I believe. Butthat you, who knew my toil for our country, for France, you have seenme giving night after night to the Emperor's service, and workingeighteen hours of each twenty-four for months together, you who knewmy love for Madame de Serizy, --that you should have gossiped about mebefore a boy! holding up my secrets and my affections to the ridiculeof a Madame Husson!--"

"Monseigneur!"

"It is unpardonable. To injure a man's interest, why, that is nothing;but to stab his heart!--Oh! you do not know what you have done!"

The count put his head in his hands and was silent for some moments. 

"I leave you what you have gained, " he said after a time, "and I shallforget you. For my sake, for my dignity, and for your honor, we willpart decently; for I cannot but remember even now what your father didfor mine. You will explain the duties of the stewardship in a propermanner to Monsieur de Reybert, who succeeds you. Be calm, as I am. Give no opportunity for fools to talk. Above all, let there be norecrimination or petty meanness. Though you no longer possess myconfidence, endeavor to behave with the decorum of well-bred persons. As for that miserable boy who has wounded me to death, I will not havehim sleep at Presles; send him to the inn; I will not answer for myown temper if I see him. "

"I do not deserve such gentleness, monseigneur, " said Moreau, withtears in his eyes. "Yes, you are right; if I had been utterlydishonest I should now be worth five hundred thousand francs insteadof half that sum. I offer to give you an account of my fortune, withall its details. But let me tell you, monseigneur, that in talking ofyou with Madame Clapart, it was never in derision; but, on thecontrary, to deplore your state, and to ask her for certain remedies, not used by physicians, but known to the common people. I spoke ofyour feelings before the boy, who was in his bed and, as I supposed, asleep (it seems he must have been awake and listening to us), withthe utmost affection and respect. Alas! fate wills that indiscretionsbe punished like crimes. But while accepting the results of your justanger, I wish you to know what actually took place. It was, indeed, from heart to heart that I spoke of you to Madame Clapart. As for mywife, I have never said one word of these things--"

"Enough, " said the count, whose conviction was now complete; "we arenot children. All is now irrevocable. Put your affairs and mine inorder. You can stay in the pavilion until October. Monsieur and Madamede Reybert will lodge for the present in the chateau; endeavor to keepon terms with them, like well-bred persons who hate each other, butstill keep up appearances. "

The count and Moreau went downstairs; Moreau white as the count'shair, the count himself calm and dignified. 

During the time this interview lasted the Beaumont coach, which leftParis at one o'clock, had stopped before the gates of the chateau, anddeposited Maitre Crottat, the notary, who was shown, according to thecount's orders, into the salon, where he found his clerk, extremelysubdued in manner, and the two painters, all three of them painfullyself-conscious and embarrassed. Monsieur de Reybert, a man of fifty, with a crabbed expression of face, was also there, accompanied by oldMargueron and the notary of Beaumont, who held in his hand a bundle ofdeeds and other papers. 

When these various personages saw the count in evening dress, andwearing his orders, Georges Marest had a slight sensation of colic, Joseph Bridau quivered, but Mistigris, who was conscious of being inhis Sunday clothes, and had, moreover, nothing on his conscience, remarked, in a sufficiently loud tone:--

"Well, he looks a great deal better like that. "

"Little scamp, " said the count, catching him by the ear, "we are bothin the decoration business. I hope you recognize your own work, mydear Schinner, " he added, pointing to the ceiling of the salon. 

"Monseigneur, " replied the artist, "I did wrong to take such acelebrated name out of mere bravado; but this day will oblige me to dofine things for you, and so bring credit on my own name of JosephBridau. "

"You took up my defence, " said the count, hastily; "and I hope youwill give me the pleasure of dining with me, as well as my livelyfriend Mistigris. "

"Your Excellency doesn't know to what you expose yourself, " said thesaucy rapin; "'facilis descensus victuali, ' as we say at the BlackHen. "

"Bridau!" exclaimed the minister, struck by a sudden thought. "Are youany relation to one of the most devoted toilers under the Empire, thehead of a bureau, who fell a victim to his zeal?"

"His son, monseigneur, " replied Joseph, bowing. 

"Then you are most welcome here, " said the count, taking Bridau's handin both of his. "I knew your father, and you can count on me as on--onan uncle in America, " added the count, laughing. "But you are tooyoung to have pupils of your own; to whom does Mistigris reallybelong?"

"To my friend Schinner, who lent him to me, " said Joseph. "Mistigris'name is Leon de Lora. Monseigneur, if you knew my father, will youdeign to think of his other son, who is now accused of plottingagainst the State, and is soon to be tried before the Court of Peers?"

"Ah! that's true, " said the count. "Yes, I will think about it, besure of that. As for Colonel Czerni-Georges, the friend of Ali Pacha, and Mina's aide-de-camp--" he continued, walking up to Georges. 

"He! why that's my second clerk!" cried Crottat. 

"You are quite mistaken, Maitre Crottat, " said the count, assuming astern air. "A clerk who intends to be a notary does not leaveimportant deeds in a diligence at the mercy of other travellers;neither does he spend twenty francs between Paris and Moisselles; orexpose himself to be arrested as a deserter--"

"Monseigneur, " said Georges Marest, "I may have amused myself with thebourgeois in the diligence, but--"

"Let his Excellency finish what he was saying, " said the notary, digging his elbow into his clerk's ribs. 

"A notary, " continued the count, "ought to practise discretion, shrewdness, caution from the start; he should be incapable of such ablunder as taking a peer of France for a tallow-chandler--"

"I am willing to be blamed for my faults, " said Georges; "but I neverleft my deeds at the mercy of--"

"Now you are committing the fault of contradicting the word of aminister of State, a gentleman, an old man, and a client, " said thecount. "Give me that deed of sale. "

Georges turned over and over the papers in his portfolio. 

"That will do; don't disarrange those papers, " said the count, takingthe deed from his pocket. "Here is what you are looking for. "

Crottat turned the paper back and forth, so astonished was he atreceiving it from the hands of his client. 

"What does this mean, monsieur?" he said, finally, to Georges. 

"If I had not taken it, " said the count, "Pere Leger, --who is by nomeans such a ninny as you thought him from his questions aboutagriculture, by which he showed that he attended to his own business, --Pere Leger might have seized that paper and guessed my purpose. Youmust give me the pleasure of dining with me, but one on condition, --that of describing, as you promised, the execution of the Muslim ofSmyrna, and you must also finish the memoirs of some client which youhave certainly read to be so well informed. "

"Schlague for blague!" said Leon de Lora, in a whisper, to JosephBridau. 

"Gentlemen, " said the count to the two notaries and MessieursMargueron and de Reybert, "let us go into the next room and concludethis business before dinner, because, as my friend Mistigris wouldsay: 'Qui esurit constentit. '"

"Well, he is very good-natured, " said Leon de Lora to Georges Marest, when the count had left the room. 

"Yes, HE may be, but my master isn't, " said Georges, "and he willrequest me to go and blaguer somewhere else. "

"Never mind, you like travel, " said Bridau. 

"What a dressing that boy will get from Monsieur and Madame Moreau!"cried Mistigris. 

"Little idiot!" said Georges. "If it hadn't been for him the countwould have been amused. Well, anyhow, the lesson is a good one; and ifever again I am caught bragging in a public coach--"

"It is a stupid thing to do, " said Joseph Bridau. 

"And common, " added Mistigris. "'Vulgarity is the brother ofpretension. '"

While the matter of the sale was being settled between MonsieurMargueron and the Comte de Serizy, assisted by their respectivenotaries in presence of Monsieur de Reybert, the ex-steward walkedwith slow steps to his own house. There he entered the salon and satdown without noticing anything. Little Husson, who was present, slipped into a corner, out of sight, so much did the livid face of hismother's friend alarm him. 

"Eh! my friend!" said Estelle, coming into the room, somewhat tiredwith what she had been doing. "What is the matter?"

"My dear, we are lost, --lost beyond recovery. I am no longer stewardof Presles, no longer in the count's confidence. "

"Why not?"

"Pere Leger, who was in Pierrotin's coach, told the count all aboutthe affair of Les Moulineaux. But that is not the thing that has costme his favor. "

"What then?"

"Oscar spoke ill of the countess, and he told about the count'sdiseases. "

"Oscar!" cried Madame Moreau. "Ah! my dear, your sin has found youout. It was well worth while to warm that young serpent in your bosom. How often I have told you--"

"Enough!" said Moreau, in a strained voice. 

At this moment Estelle and her husband discovered Oscar cowering inhis corner. Moreau swooped down on the luckless lad like a hawk on itsprey, took him by the collar of the coat and dragged him to the lightof a window. "Speak! what did you say to monseigneur in that coach?What demon let loose your tongue, you who keep a doltish silencewhenever I speak to you? What did you do it for?" cried the steward, with frightful violence. 

Too bewildered to weep, Oscar was dumb and motionless as a statue. 

"Come with me and beg his Excellency's pardon, " said Moreau. 

"As if his Excellency cares for a little toad like that!" cried thefurious Estelle. 

"Come, I say, to the chateau, " repeated Moreau. 

Oscar dropped like an inert mass to the ground. 

"Come!" cried Moreau, his anger increasing at every instant. 

"No! no! mercy!" cried Oscar, who could not bring himself to submit toa torture that seemed to him worse than death. 

Moreau then took the lad by his coat, and dragged him, as he might adead body, through the yards, which rang with the boy's outcries andsobs. He pulled him up the portico, and, with an arm that fury madepowerful, he flung him, bellowing, and rigid as a pole, into thesalon, at the very feet of the count, who, having completed thepurchase of Les Moulineaux, was about to leave the salon for thedining-room with his guests. 

"On your knees, wretched boy! and ask pardon of him who gave food toyour mind by obtaining your scholarship. "

Oscar, his face to the ground, was foaming with rage, and did not saya word. The spectators of the scene were shocked. Moreau seemed nolonger in his senses; his face was crimson with injected blood. 

"This young man is a mere lump of vanity, " said the count, afterwaiting a moment for Oscar's excuses. "A proud man humiliates himselfbecause he sees there is grandeur in a certain self-abasement. I amafraid that you will never make much of that lad. "

So saying, his Excellency passed on. Moreau took Oscar home with him;and on the way gave orders that the horses should immediately be putto Madame Moreau's caleche. 

 CHAPTER VII

 A MOTHER'S TRIALS

While the horses were being harnessed, Moreau wrote the followingletter to Madame Clapart:--

 My dear, --Oscar has ruined me. During his journey in Pierrotin's coach, he spoke of Madame de Serizy's behavior to his Excellency, who was travelling incognito, and actually told, to himself, the secret of his terrible malady. After dismissing me from my stewardship, the count told me not to let Oscar sleep at Presles, but to send him away immediately. Therefore, to obey his orders, the horses are being harnessed at this moment to my wife's carriage, and Brochon, my stable-man, will take the miserable child to you to-night. 

 We are, my wife and I, in a distress of mind which you may perhaps imagine, though I cannot describe it to you. I will see you in a few days, for I must take another course. I have three children, and I ought to consider their future. At present I do not know what to do; but I shall certainly endeavor to make the count aware of what seventeen years of the life of a man like myself is worth. Owning at the present moment about two hundred and fifty thousand francs, I want to raise myself to a fortune which may some day make me the equal of his Excellency. At this moment I feel within me the power to move mountains and vanquish insurmountable difficulties. What a lever is such a scene of bitter humiliation as I have just passed through! Whose blood has Oscar in his veins? His conduct has been that of a blockhead; up to this moment when I write to you, he has not said a word nor answered, even by a sign, the questions my wife and I have put to him. Will he become an idiot? or is he one already? Dear friend, why did you not instruct him as to his behavior before you sent him to me? How many misfortunes you would have spared me, had you brought him here yourself as I begged you to do. If Estelle alarmed you, you might have stayed at Moisselles. However, the thing is done, and there is no use talking about it. 

 Adieu; I shall see you soon. 

Your devoted servant and friend, Moreau

At eight o'clock that evening, Madame Clapart, just returned from awalk she had taken with her husband, was knitting winter socks forOscar, by the light of a single candle. Monsieur Clapart was expectinga friend named Poiret, who often came in to play dominoes, for neverdid he allow himself to spend an evening at a cafe. In spite of theprudent economy to which his small means forced him, Clapart would nothave answered for his temperance amid a luxury of food and in presenceof the usual guests of a cafe whose inquisitive observation would havepiqued him. 

"I'm afraid Poiret came while we were out, " said Clapart to his wife. 

"Why, no, my friend; the portress would have told us so when we camein, " replied Madame Clapart. 

"She may have forgotten it. "

"What makes you think so?"

"It wouldn't be the first time she has forgotten things for us, --forGod knows how people without means are treated. "

"Well, " said the poor woman, to change the conversation and escapeClapart's cavilling, "Oscar must be at Presles by this time. How hewill enjoy that fine house and the beautiful park. "

"Oh! yes, " snarled Clapart, "you expect fine things of him; but, markmy words, there'll be squabbles wherever he goes. "

"Will you never cease to find fault with that poor child?" said themother. "What has he done to you? If some day we should live at ourease, we may owe it all to him; he has such a good heart--"

"Our bones will be jelly long before that fellow makes his way in theworld, " cried Clapart. "You don't know your own child; he isconceited, boastful, deceitful, lazy, incapable of--"

"Why don't you go to meet Poiret?" said the poor mother, struck to theheart by the diatribe she had brought upon herself. 

"A boy who has never won a prize at school!" continued Clapart. 

To bourgeois eyes, the obtaining of school prizes means the certaintyof a fine future for the fortunate child. 

"Did you win any?" asked his wife. "Oscar stood second in philosophy. "

This remark imposed silence for a moment on Clapart; but presently hebegan again. 

"Besides, Madame Moreau hates him like poison, you know why. She'lltry to set her husband against him. Oscar to step into his shoes assteward of Presles! Why he'd have to learn agriculture, and know howto survey. "

"He can learn. "

"He--that pussy cat! I'll bet that if he does get a place down there, it won't be a week before he does some doltish thing which will makethe count dismiss him. "

"Good God! how can you be so bitter against a poor child who is fullof good qualities, sweet-tempered as an angel, incapable of doing harmto any one, no matter who. "

Just then the cracking of a postilion's whip and the noise of acarriage stopping before the house was heard, this arrival havingapparently put the whole street into a commotion. Clapart, who heardthe opening of many windows, looked out himself to see what washappening. 

"They have sent Oscar back to you in a post-chaise, " he cried, in atone of satisfaction, though in truth he felt inwardly uneasy. 

"Good heavens! what can have happened to him?" cried the poor mother, trembling like a leaf shaken by the autumn wind. 

Brochon here came up, followed by Oscar and Poiret. 

"What has happened?" repeated the mother, addressing the stable-man. 

"I don't know, but Monsieur Moreau is no longer steward of Presles, and they say your son has caused it. His Excellency ordered that heshould be sent home to you. Here's a letter from poor Monsieur Moreau, madame, which will tell you all. You never saw a man so changed in asingle day. "

"Clapart, two glasses of wine for the postilion and for monsieur!"cried the mother, flinging herself into a chair that she might readthe fatal letter. "Oscar, " she said, staggering towards her bed, "doyou want to kill your mother? After all the cautions I gave you thismorning--"

She did not end her sentence, for she fainted from distress of mind. When she came to herself she heard her husband saying to Oscar, as heshook him by the arm:--

"Will you answer me?"

"Go to bed, monsieur, " she said to her son. "Let him alone, MonsieurClapart. Don't drive him out of his senses; he is frightfullychanged. "

Oscar did not hear his mother's last words; he had slipped away to bedthe instant that he got the order. 

Those who remember their youth will not be surprised to learn thatafter a day so filled with events and emotions, Oscar, in spite of theenormity of his offences, slept the sleep of the just. The next day hedid not find the world so changed as he thought it; he was surprisedto be very hungry, --he who the night before had regarded himself asunworthy to live. He had only suffered mentally. At his age mentalimpressions succeed each other so rapidly that the last weakens itspredecessor, however deeply the first may have been cut in. For thisreason corporal punishment, though philanthropists are deeply opposedto it in these days, becomes necessary in certain cases for certainchildren. It is, moreover, the most natural form of retribution, forNature herself employs it; she uses pain to impress a lasting memoryof her precepts. If to the shame of the preceding evening, unhappilytoo transient, the steward had joined some personal chastisement, perhaps the lesson might have been complete. The discernment withwhich such punishment needs to be administered is the greatestargument against it. Nature is never mistaken; but the teacher is, andfrequently. 

Madame Clapart took pains to send her husband out, so that she mightbe alone with her son the next morning. She was in a state to excitepity. Her eyes, worn with tears; her face, weary with the fatigue of asleepless night; her feeble voice, --in short, everything about herproved 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 theyhad so constantly received from the steward of Presles. She told himthat they had lived, especially for the last six years, on thedelicate charity of Monsieur Moreau; and that Monsieur Clapart'ssalary, also the "demi-bourse, " or scholarship, by which he (Oscar)had obtained an education, was due to the Comte de Serizy. Most ofthis would now cease. Monsieur Clapart, she said, had no claim to apension, --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 wouldbecome of them?

"For myself, " she said, "by nursing the sick, or living as ahousekeeper in some great family, I could support myself and MonsieurClapart; but you, Oscar, what could you do? You have no means, and youmust earn some, for you must live. There are but four careers for ayoung man like you, --commerce, government employment, the licensedprofessions, or military service. All forms of commerce need capital, and we have none to give you. In place of capital, a young man canonly give devotion and his capacity. But commerce also demands theutmost discretion, and your conduct yesterday proves that you lack it. To enter a government office, you must go through a long probation bythe help of influence, and you have just alienated the only protectorthat we had, --a most powerful one. Besides, suppose you were to meetwith some extraordinary help, by which a young man makes his waypromptly either in business or in the public employ, where could youfind the money to live and clothe yourself during the time that youare learning your employment?"

Here the mother wandered, like other women, into wordy lamentation:What should she do now to feed the family, deprived of the benefitsMoreau's stewardship had enabled him to send her from Presles? Oscarhad overthrown his benefactor's prosperity! As commerce and agovernment clerkship were now impossible, there remained only theprofessions of notary and lawyer, either barristers or solicitors, andsheriffs. But for those he must study at least three years, and payconsiderable sums for entrance fees, examinations, certificates, anddiplomas; and here again the question of maintenance presented itself. 

"Oscar, " she said, in conclusion, "in you I had put all my pride, allmy life. In accepting for myself an unhappy old age, I fastened myeyes on you; I saw you with the prospect of a fine career, and Iimagined you succeeding in it. That thought, that hope, gave mecourage to face the privations I have endured for six years in orderto carry you through school, where you have cost me, in spite of thescholarship, between seven and eight hundred francs a year. Now thatmy hope is vanishing, your future terrifies me. I cannot take onepenny from Monsieur Clapart's salary for my son. What can you do? Youare not strong enough to mathematics to enter any of the technicalschools; and, besides, where could I get the three thousand francsboard-money which they extract? This is life as it is, my child. Youare eighteen, you are strong. Enlist in the army; it is your onlymeans, that I can see, to earn your bread. "

Oscar knew as yet nothing whatever of life. Like all children who havebeen kept from a knowledge of the trials and poverty of the home, hewas ignorant of the necessity of earning his living. The word"commerce" presented no idea whatever to his mind; "public employment"said almost as little, for he saw no results of it. He listened, therefore, with a submissive air, which he tried to make humble, tohis mother's exhortations, but they were lost in the void, and did notreach his mind. Nevertheless, the word "army, " the thought of being asoldier, and the sight of his mother's tears did at last make him cry. No sooner did Madame Clapart see the drops coursing down his cheeksthan she felt herself helpless, and, like most mothers in such cases, she began the peroration which terminates these scenes, --scenes inwhich they suffer their own anguish and that of their children also. 

"Well, Oscar, _promise_ me that you will be more discreet in future, --that you will not talk heedlessly any more, but will strive torepress your silly vanity, " et cetera, et cetera. 

Oscar of course promised all his mother asked him to promise, andthen, after gently drawing him to her, Madame Clapart ended by kissinghim to console him for being scolded. 

"In future, " she said, "you will listen to your mother, and willfollow her advice; for a mother can give nothing but good counsel toher child. We will go and see your uncle Cardot; that is our lasthope. Cardot owed a great deal to your father, who gave him hissister, Mademoiselle Husson, with an enormous dowry for those days, which enabled him to make a large fortune in the silk trade. I thinkhe might, perhaps, place you with Monsieur Camusot, his successor andson-in-law, in the rue des Bourdonnais. But, you see, your uncleCardot has four children. He gave his establishment, the Cocon d'Or, to his eldest daughter, Madame Camusot; and though Camusot hasmillions, he has also four children by two wives; and, besides, hescarcely knows of our existence. Cardot has married his seconddaughter, Mariane, to Monsieur Protez, of the firm of Protez andChiffreville. The practice of his eldest son, the notary, cost himfour hundred thousand francs; and he has just put his second son, Joseph, into the drug business of Matifat. So you see, your uncleCardot has many reasons not to take an interest in you, whom he seesonly four times a year. He has never come to call upon me here, thoughhe was ready enough to visit me at Madame Mere's when he wanted tosell his silks to the Emperor, the imperial highnesses, and all thegreat people at court. But now the Camusots have turned ultras. Theeldest son of Camusot's first wife married a daughter of one of theking's ushers. The world is mighty hump-backed when it stoops!However, it was a clever thing to do, for the Cocon d'Or has thecustom of the present court as it had that of the Emperor. Butto-morrow we will go and see your uncle Cardot, and I hope that youwill endeavor to behave properly; for, as I said before, and I repeatit, that is our last hope. "

Monsieur Jean-Jerome-Severin Cardot had been a widower six years. Ashead-clerk of the Cocon d'Or, one of the oldest firms in Paris, he hadbought the establishment in 1793, at a time when the heads of thehouse were ruined by the maximum; and the money of MademoiselleHusson's dowry had enabled him to do this, and so make a fortune thatwas almost colossal in ten years. To establish his children richlyduring his lifetime, he had conceived the idea of buying an annuityfor himself and his wife with three hundred thousand francs, whichgave him an income of thirty thousand francs a year. He then dividedhis capital into three shares of four hundred thousand francs each, which he gave to three of his children, --the Cocon d'Or, given to hiseldest daughter on her marriage, being the equivalent of a fourthshare. Thus the worthy man, who was now nearly seventy years old, could spend his thirty thousand a year as he pleased, without feelingthat he injured the prospects of his children, all finely providedfor, whose attentions and proofs of affection were, moreover, notprompted by self-interest. 

Uncle Cardot lived at Belleville, in one of the first houses above theCourtille. He there occupied, on the first floor, an apartmentoverlooking the valley of the Seine, with a southern exposure, and theexclusive enjoyment of a large garden, for the sum of a thousandfrancs a year. He troubled himself not at all about the three or fourother tenants of the same vast country-house. Certain, through a longlease, of ending his days there, he lived rather plainly, served by anold cook and the former maid of the late Madame Cardot, --both of whomexpected to reap an annuity of some six hundred francs apiece on theold man's death. These two women took the utmost care of him, and wereall the more interested in doing so because no one was ever less fussyor less fault-finding than he. The apartment, furnished by the lateMadame Cardot, had remained in the same condition for the last sixyears, --the old man being perfectly contented with it. He spent in allnot more than three thousand francs a year there; for he dined inParis five days in the week, and returned home at midnight in ahackney-coach, which belonged to an establishment at Courtille. Thecook had only her master's breakfast to provide on those days. Thiswas served at eleven o'clock; after that he dressed and perfumedhimself, and departed for Paris. Usually, a bourgeois gives notice inthe household if he dines out; old Cardot, on the contrary, gavenotice when he dined at home. 

This little old man--fat, rosy, squat, and strong--always looked, inpopular speech, as if he had stepped from a bandbox. He appeared inblack silk stockings, breeches of "pou-de-soie" (paduasoy), a whitepique waistcoat, dazzling shirt-front, a blue-bottle coat, violet silkgloves, gold buckles to his shoes and his breeches, and, lastly, atouch of powder and a little queue tied with black ribbon. His facewas remarkable for a pair of eyebrows as thick as bushes, beneathwhich sparkled his gray eyes; and for a square nose, thick and long, which gave him somewhat the air of the abbes of former times. Hiscountenance did not belie him. Pere Cardot belonged to that race oflively Gerontes which is now disappearing rapidly, though it onceserved as Turcarets to the comedies and tales of the eighteenthcentury. Uncle Cardot always said "Fair lady, " and he placed in theircarriages, and otherwise paid attention to those women whom he sawwithout protectors; he "placed himself at their disposition, " as hesaid, in his chivalrous way. 

But beneath his calm air and his snowy poll he concealed an old agealmost wholly given up to mere pleasure. Among men he openly professedepicureanism, and gave himself the license of free talk. He had seenno harm in the devotion of his son-in-law, Camusot, to MademoiselleCoralie, for he himself was secretly the Mecaenas of MademoiselleFlorentine, the first danseuse at the Gaiete. But this life and theseopinions never appeared in his own home, nor in his external conductbefore the world. Uncle Cardot, grave and polite, was thought to besomewhat cold, so much did he affect decorum; a "devote" would havecalled him a hypocrite. 

The worthy old gentleman hated priests; he belonged to that greatflock of ninnies who subscribed to the "Constitutionnel, " and was muchconcerned about "refusals to bury. " He adored Voltaire, though hispreferences were really for Piron, Vade, and Colle. Naturally, headmired Beranger, whom he wittily called the "grandfather of thereligion of Lisette. " His daughters, Madame Camusot and Madame Protez, and his two sons would, to use a popular expression, have beenflabbergasted if any one had explained to them what their father meantby "singing la Mere Godichon. "

This long-headed parent had never mentioned his income to hischildren, who, seeing that he lived in a cheap way, reflected that hehad deprived himself of his property for their sakes, and, therefore, redoubled their attentions and tenderness. In fact, he would sometimessay to his sons:--

"Don't lose your property; remember, I have none to leave you. "

Camusot, in whom he recognized a certain likeness to his own nature, and whom he liked enough to make a sharer in his secret pleasures, alone knew of the thirty thousand a year annuity. But Camusot approvedof the old man's ethics, and thought that, having made the happinessof his children and nobly fulfilled his duty by them, he now had aright to end his life jovially. 

"Don't you see, my friend, " said the former master of the Cocon d'Or, "I might re-marry. A young woman would give me more children. Well, Florentine doesn't cost me what a wife would; neither does she boreme; and she won't give me children to lessen your property. "

Camusot considered that Pere Cardot gave expression to a high senseof family duty in these words; he regarded him as an admirablefather-in-law. 

"He knows, " thought he, "how to unite the interests of his childrenwith the pleasures which old age naturally desires after the worriesof business life. "

Neither the Cardots, nor the Camusots, nor the Protez knew anything ofthe ways of life of their aunt Clapart. The family intercourse wasrestricted to the sending of notes of "faire part" on the occasion ofdeaths and marriages, and cards at the New Year. The proud MadameClapart would never have brought herself to seek them were it not forOscar's interests, and because of her friendship for Moreau, the onlyperson who had been faithful to her in misfortune. She had neverannoyed old Cardot by her visits, or her importunities, but she heldto him as to a hope, and always went to see him once every threemonths and talked to him of Oscar, the nephew of the late respectableMadame Cardot; and she took the boy to call upon him three timesduring each vacation. At each of these visits the old gentleman hadgiven Oscar a dinner at the Cadran-Bleu, taking him, afterwards, tothe Gaiete, and returning him safely to the rue de la Cerisaie. On oneoccasion, having given the boy an entirely new suit of clothes, headded the silver cup and fork and spoon required for his schooloutfit. 

Oscar's mother endeavored to impress the old gentleman with the ideathat his nephew cherished him, and she constantly referred to the cupand the fork and spoon and to the beautiful suit of clothes, thoughnothing was then left of the latter but the waistcoat. But such littlearts did Oscar more harm than good when practised on so sly an old foxas uncle Cardot. The latter had never much liked his departed wife, atall, spare, red-haired woman; he was also aware of the circumstancesof the late Husson's marriage with Oscar's mother, and without in theleast condemning her, he knew very well that Oscar was a posthumouschild. His nephew, therefore, seemed to him to have no claims on theCardot family. But Madame Clapart, like all women who concentratetheir whole being into the sentiment of motherhood, did not putherself in Cardot's place and see the matter from his point of view;she thought he must certainly be interested in so sweet a child, whobore the maiden name of his late wife. 

"Monsieur, " said old Cardot's maid-servant, coming out to him as hewalked about the garden while awaiting his breakfast, after hishairdresser had duly shaved him and powdered his queue, "the mother ofyour nephew, Oscar, is here. "

"Good-day, fair lady, " said the old man, bowing to Madame Clapart, andwrapping his white pique dressing-gown about him. "Hey, hey! how thislittle fellow grows, " he added, taking Oscar by the ear. 

"He has finished school, and he regretted so much that his dear unclewas not present at the distribution of the Henri IV. Prizes, at whichhe was named. The name of Husson, which, let us hope, he will bearworthily, was proclaimed--"

"The deuce it was!" exclaimed the little old man, stopping short. Madame Clapart, Oscar, and he were walking along a terrace flanked byoranges, myrtles, and pomegranates. "And what did he get?"

"The fourth rank in philosophy, " replied the mother proudly. 

"Oh! oh!" cried uncle Cardot, "the rascal has a good deal to do tomake up for lost time; for the fourth rank in philosophy, well, _itisn't Peru_, you know! You will stay and breakfast with me?" he added. 

"We are at your orders, " replied Madame Clapart. "Ah! my dear MonsieurCardot, what happiness it is for fathers and mothers when theirchildren make a good start in life! In this respect--indeed, in allothers, " she added, catching herself up, "you are one of the mostfortunate fathers I have ever known. Under your virtuous son-in-lawand your amiable daughter, the Cocon d'Or continues to be the greatestestablishment of its kind in Paris. And here's your eldest son, forthe last ten years at the head of a fine practice and married towealth. And you have such charming little granddaughters! You are, asit were, the head of four great families. Leave us, Oscar; go and lookat the garden, but don't touch the flowers. "

"Why, he's eighteen years old!" said uncle Cardot, smiling at thisinjunction, which made an infant of Oscar. 

"Alas, yes, he is eighteen, my good Monsieur Cardot; and afterbringing him so far, sound and healthy in mind and body, neitherbow-legged nor crooked, after sacrificing everything to give him aneducation, it would be hard if I could not see him on the road tofortune. "

"That Monsieur Moreau who got him the scholarship will be sure to lookafter his career, " said uncle Cardot, concealing his hypocrisy underan air of friendly good-humor. 

"Monsieur Moreau may die, " she said. "And besides, he has quarrelledirrevocably with the Comte de Serizy, his patron. "

"The deuce he has! Listen, madame; I see you are about to--"

"No, monsieur, " said Oscar's mother, interrupting the old man, who, out of courtesy to the "fair lady, " repressed his annoyance at beinginterrupted. "Alas, you do not know the miseries of a mother who, forseven years past, has been forced to take a sum of six hundred francsa year for her son's education from the miserable eighteen hundredfrancs of her husband's salary. Yes, monsieur, that is all we have hadto live upon. Therefore, what more can I do for my poor Oscar?Monsieur Clapart so hates the child that it is impossible for me tokeep him in the house. A poor woman, alone in the world, am I notright to come and consult the only relation my Oscar has underheaven?"

"Yes, you are right, " said uncle Cardot. "You never told me of allthis before. "

"Ah, monsieur!" replied Madame Clapart, proudly, "you were the last towhom I would have told my wretchedness. It is all my own fault; Imarried a man whose incapacity is almost beyond belief. Yes, I am, indeed, most unhappy. "

"Listen to me, madame, " said the little old man, "and don't weep; itis most painful to me to see a fair lady cry. After all, your sonbears the name of Husson, and if my dear deceased wife were living shewould wish to do something for the name of her father and of herbrother--"

"She loved her brother, " said Oscar's mother. 

"But all my fortune is given to my children, who expect nothing fromme at my death, " continued the old man. "I have divided among them themillions that I had, because I wanted to see them happy and enjoyingtheir wealth during my lifetime. I have nothing now except an annuity;and at my age one clings to old habits. Do you know the path on whichyou ought to start this young fellow?" he went on, after calling toOscar and taking him by the arm. "Let him study law; I'll pay thecosts. Put him in a lawyer's office and let him learn the business ofpettifogging; if he does well, if he distinguishes himself, if helikes his profession and I am still alive, each of my children shall, when the proper time comes, lend him a quarter of the cost of apractice; and I will be security for him. You will only have to feedand clothe him. Of course he'll sow a few wild oats, but he'll learnlife. Look at me: I left Lyon with two double louis which mygrandmother gave me, and walked to Paris; and what am I now? Fastingis good for the health. Discretion, honesty, and work, young man, andyou'll succeed. There's a great deal of pleasure in earning one'sfortune; and if a man keeps his teeth he eats what he likes in his oldage, and sings, as I do, 'La Mere Godichon. ' Remember my words:Honesty, work, discretion. "

"Do you hear that, Oscar?" said his mother. "Your uncle sums up inthree words all that I have been saying to you. You ought to carve thelast word in letters of fire on your memory. "

"Oh, I have, " said Oscar. 

"Very good, --then thank your uncle; didn't you hear him say he wouldtake charge of your future? You will be a lawyer in Paris. "

"He doesn't see the grandeur of his destiny, " said the little old man, observing Oscar's apathetic air. "Well, he's just out of school. Listen, I'm no talker, " he continued; "but I have this to say:Remember that at your age honesty and uprightness are maintained onlyby resisting temptations; of which, in a great city like Paris, thereare many at every step. Live in your mother's home, in the garret; gostraight to the law-school; from there to your lawyer's office; drudgenight and day, and study at home. Become, by the time you aretwenty-two, a second clerk; by the time you are twenty-four, head-clerk;be steady, and you will win all. If, moreover, you shouldn't like theprofession, you might enter the office of my son the notary, andeventually succeed him. Therefore, work, patience, discretion, honesty, --those are your landmarks. "

"God grant that you may live thirty years longer to see your fifthchild realizing all we expect from him, " cried Madame Clapart, seizinguncle Cardot's hand and pressing it with a gesture that recalled heryouth. 

"Now come to breakfast, " replied the kind old man, leading Oscar bythe ear. 

During the meal uncle Cardot observed his nephew without appearing todo so, and soon saw that the lad knew nothing of life. 

"Send him here to me now and then, " he said to Madame Clapart, as hebade her good-bye, "and I'll form him for you. "

This visit calmed the anxieties of the poor mother, who had not hopedfor such brilliant success. For the next fortnight she took Oscar towalk daily, and watched him tyrannically. This brought matters to theend of October. One morning as the poor household was breakfasting ona salad of herring and lettuce, with milk for a dessert, Oscar beheldwith terror the formidable ex-steward, who entered the room andsurprised this scene of poverty. 

"We are now living in Paris--but not as we lived at Presles, " saidMoreau, wishing to make known to Madame Clapart the change in theirrelations caused by Oscar's folly. "I shall seldom be here myself; forI have gone into partnership with Pere Leger and Pere Margueron ofBeaumont. We are speculating in land, and we have begun by purchasingthe estate of Persan. I am the head of the concern, which has acapital of a million; part of which I have borrowed on my ownsecurities. When I find a good thing, Pere Leger and I examine it; mypartners have each a quarter and I a half in the profits; but I donearly all the work, and for that reason I shall be constantly on theroad. My wife lives here, in the faubourg du Roule, very plainly. Whenwe see how the business turns out, if we risk only the profits, and ifOscar behaves himself, we may, perhaps, employ him. "

"Ah! my friend, the catastrophe caused by my poor boy's heedlessnessmay prove to be the cause of your making a brilliant fortune; for, really and truly, you were burying your energy and your capacity atPresles. "

Madame Clapart then went on to relate her visit to uncle Cardot, inorder to show Moreau that neither she nor her son need any longer be aburden on him. 

"He is right, that old fellow, " said the ex-steward. "We must holdOscar in that path with an iron hand, and he will end as a barristeror a notary. But he mustn't leave the track; he must go straightthrough with it. Ha! I know how to help you. The legal business ofland-agents is quite important, and I have heard of a lawyer who hasjust bought what is called a "titre nu"; that means a practice withoutclients. He is a young man, hard as an iron bar, eager for work, ferociously active. His name is Desroches. I'll offer him our businesson condition that he takes Oscar as a pupil; and I'll ask him to letthe boy live with him at nine hundred francs a year, of which I willpay three, so that your son will cost you only six hundred francs, without his living, in future. If the boy ever means to become a manit can only be under a discipline like that. He'll come out of thatoffice, notary, solicitor, or barrister, as he may elect. "

"Come, Oscar; thank our kind Monsieur Moreau, and don't stand therelike a stone post. All young men who commit follies have not the goodfortune to meet with friends who still take an interest in theircareer, even after they have been injured by them. "

"The best way to make your peace with me, " said Moreau, pressingOscar's hand, "is to work now with steady application, and to conductyourself in future properly. "

 CHAPTER VIII

 TRICKS AND FARCES OF THE EMBRYO LONG ROBE

Ten days later, Oscar was taken by Monsieur Moreau to MaitreDesroches, solicitor, recently established in the rue de Bethisy, in avast apartment at the end of a narrow court-yard, for which he waspaying a relatively low price. 

Desroches, a young man twenty-six years of age, born of poor parents, and brought up with extreme severity by a stern father, had himselfknown the condition in which Oscar now was. Accordingly, he felt aninterest in him, but the sort of interest which alone he could take, checked by the apparent harshness that characterized him. The aspectof this gaunt young man, with a muddy skin and hair cropped like aclothes-brush, who was curt of speech and possessed a piercing eye anda gloomy vivaciousness, terrified the unhappy Oscar. 

"We work here day and night, " said the lawyer, from the depths of hisarmchair, and behind a table on which were papers, piled up like Alps. "Monsieur Moreau, we won't kill him; but he'll have to go at our pace. Monsieur Godeschal!" he called out. 

Though the day was Sunday, the head-clerk appeared, pen in hand. 

"Monsieur Godeschal, here's the pupil of whom I spoke to you. MonsieurMoreau takes the liveliest interest in him. He will dine with us andsleep in the small attic next to your chamber. You will allot theexact time it takes to go to the law-school and back, so that he doesnot lose five minutes on the way. You will see that he learns the Codeand is proficient in his classes; that is to say, after he has donehis work here, you will give him authors to read. In short, he is tobe under your immediate direction, and I shall keep an eye on it. Theywant to make him what you have made yourself, a capable head-clerk, against the time when he can take such a place himself. Go withMonsieur Godeschal, my young friend; he'll show you your lodging, andyou can settle down in it. Did you notice Godeschal?" continuedDesroches, speaking to Moreau. "There's a fellow who, like me, hasnothing. His sister Mariette, the famous danseuse, is laying up hermoney to buy him a practice in ten years. My clerks are young bladeswho have nothing but their ten fingers to rely upon. So we all, myfive clerks and I, work as hard as a dozen ordinary fellows. But inten years I'll have the finest practice in Paris. In my office, business and clients are a passion, and that's beginning to makeitself felt. I took Godeschal from Derville, where he was only justmade second clerk. He gets a thousand francs a year from me, and foodand lodging. But he's worth it; he is indefatigable. I love him, thatfellow! He has managed to live, as I did when a clerk, on six hundredfrancs a year. What I care for above all is honesty, spotlessintegrity; and when it is practised in such poverty as that, a man's aman. For the slightest fault of that kind a clerk leaves my office. "

"The lad is in a good school, " thought Moreau. 

For two whole years Oscar lived in the rue de Bethisy, a den ofpettifogging; for if ever that superannuated expression was applicableto a lawyer's office, it was so in this case. Under this supervision, both petty and able, he was kept to his regular hours and to his workwith such rigidity that his life in the midst of Paris was that of amonk. 

At five in the morning, in all weathers, Godeschal woke up. He wentdown with Oscar to the office, where they always found their master upand working. Oscar then did the errands of the office and prepared hislessons for the law-school, --and prepared them elaborately; forGodeschal, and frequently Desroches himself, pointed out to theirpupil authors to be looked through and difficulties to overcome. Hewas not allowed to leave a single section of the Code until he hadthoroughly mastered it to the satisfaction of his chief and Godeschal, who put him through preliminary examinations more searching and longerthan those of the law-school. On his return from his classes, where hewas kept but a short time, he went to his work in the office;occasionally he was sent to the Palais, but always under the thumb ofthe rigid Godeschal, till dinner. The dinner was that of his master, --one dish of meat, one of vegetables, and a salad. The dessertconsisted of a piece of Gruyere cheese. After dinner, Godeschal andOscar returned to the office and worked till night. Once a month Oscarwent to breakfast with his uncle Cardot, and he spent the Sundays withhis mother. From time to time Moreau, when he came to the office abouthis own affairs, would take Oscar to dine in the Palais-Royal, and tosome theatre in the evening. Oscar had been so snubbed by Godeschaland by Desroches for his attempts at elegance that he no longer gave athought to his clothes. 

"A good clerk, " Godeschal told him, "should have two black coats, onenew, one old, a pair of black trousers, black stockings, and shoes. Boots cost too much. You can't have boots till you are called to thebar. A clerk should never spend more than seven hundred francs a year. Good stout shirts of strong linen are what you want. Ha! when a manstarts from nothing to reach fortune, he has to keep down to barenecessities. Look at Monsieur Desroches; he did what we are doing, andsee where he is now. "

Godeschal preached by example. If he professed the strictestprinciples of honor, discretion, and honesty, he practised themwithout assumption, as he walked, as he breathed; such action was thenatural play of his soul, as walking and breathing were the naturalplay of his organs. Eighteen months after Oscar's installation intothe office, the second clerk was, for the second time, slightly wrongin his accounts, which were comparatively unimportant. Godeschal saidto him in presence of all the other clerks:

"My dear Gaudet, go away from here of your own free will, that it maynot be said that Monsieur Desroches has dismissed you. You have beencareless or absent-minded, and neither of those defects can pass here. The master shall know nothing about the matter; that is all that I cando for a comrade. "

At twenty years of age, Oscar became third clerk in the office. Thoughhe earned no salary, he was lodged and fed, for he did the work of thesecond clerk. Desroches employed two chief clerks, and the work of thesecond was unremitting toil. By the end of his second year in thelaw-school Oscar knew more than most licensed graduates; he did thework at the Palais intelligently, and argued some cases in chambers. Godeschal and Desroches were satisfied with him. And yet, though henow seemed a sensible man, he showed, from time to time, a hankeringafter pleasure and a desire to shine, repressed, though it was, by thestern discipline and continual toil of his life. 

Moreau, satisfied with Oscar's progress, relaxed, in some degree, hiswatchfulness; and when, in July, 1825, Oscar passed his examinationswith a spotless record, the land-agent gave him the money to dresshimself elegantly. Madame Clapart, proud and happy in her son, prepared the outfit splendidly for the rising lawyer. 

In the month of November, when the courts reopened, Oscar Hussonoccupied the chamber of the second clerk, whose work he now didwholly. He had a salary of eight hundred francs with board andlodging. Consequently, uncle Cardot, who went privately to Desrochesand made inquiries about his nephew, promised Madame Clapart to be onthe lookout for a practice for Oscar, if he continued to do as well inthe future. 

In spite of these virtuous appearances, Oscar Husson was undergoing agreat strife in his inmost being. At times he thought of quitting alife so directly against his tastes and his nature. He felt thatgalley-slaves were happier than he. Galled by the collar of this ironsystem, wild desires seized him to fly when he compared himself in thestreet with the well-dressed young men whom he met. Sometimes he wasdriven by a sort of madness towards women; then, again, he resignedhimself, but only to fall into a deeper disgust for life. Impelled bythe example of Godeschal, he was forced, rather than led of himself, to remain in that rugged way. 

Godeschal, who watched and took note of Oscar, made it a matter ofprinciple not to allow his pupil to be exposed to temptation. Generally the young clerk was without money, or had so little that hecould not, if he would, give way to excess. During the last year, theworthy Godeschal had made five or six parties of pleasure with Oscar, defraying the expenses, for he felt that the rope by which he tetheredthe young kid must be slackened. These "pranks, " as he called them, helped Oscar to endure existence, for there was little amusement inbreakfasting with his uncle Cardot, and still less in going to see hismother, who lived even more penuriously than Desroches. Moreau couldnot make himself familiar with Oscar as Godeschal could; and perhapsthat sincere friend to young Husson was behind Godeschal in theseefforts to initiate the poor youth safely into the mysteries of life. Oscar, grown prudent, had come, through contact with others, to seethe extent and the character of the fault he had committed on thatluckless journey; but the volume of his repressed fancies and thefollies of youth might still get the better of him. Nevertheless, themore knowledge he could get of the world and its laws, the better hismind would form itself, and, provided Godeschal never lost sight ofhim, Moreau flattered himself that between them they could bring theson of Madame Clapart through in safety. 

"How is he getting on?" asked the land-agent of Godeschal on hisreturn from one of his journeys which had kept him some months out ofParis. 

"Always too much vanity, " replied Godeschal. "You give him fineclothes and fine linen, he wears the shirt-fronts of a stockbroker, and so my dainty coxcomb spends his Sundays in the Tuileries, lookingout for adventures. What else can you expect? That's youth. Hetorments me to present him to my sister, where he would see a prettysort of society!--actresses, ballet-dancers, elegant young fops, spendthrifts who are wasting their fortunes! His mind, I'm afraid, isnot fitted for law. He can talk well, though; and if we could make hima barrister he might plead cases that were carefully prepared forhim. "

In the month of November, 1825, soon after Oscar Husson had takenpossession of his new clerkship, and at the moment when he was aboutto pass his examination for the licentiate's degree, a new clerkarrived to take the place made vacant by Oscar's promotion. 

This fourth clerk, named Frederic Marest, intended to enter themagistracy, and was now in his third year at the law school. He was afine young man of twenty-three, enriched to the amount of some twelvethousand francs a year by the death of a bachelor uncle, and the sonof Madame Marest, widow of the wealthy wood-merchant. This futuremagistrate, actuated by a laudable desire to understand his vocationin its smallest details, had put himself in Desroches' office for thepurpose of studying legal procedure, and of training himself to take aplace as head-clerk in two years. He hoped to do his "stage" (theperiod between the admission as licentiate and the call to the bar) inParis, in order to be fully prepared for the functions of a post whichwould surely not be refused to a rich young man. To see himself, bythe time he was thirty, "procureur du roi" in any court, no matterwhere, was his sole ambition. Though Frederic Marest was cousin-germanto Georges Marest, the latter not having told his surname inPierrotin's coucou, Oscar Husson did not connect the present Marestwith the grandson of Czerni-Georges. 

"Messieurs, " said Godeschal at breakfast time, addressing all theclerks, "I announce to you the arrival of a new jurisconsult; and ashe is rich, rishissime, we will make him, I hope, pay a gloriousentrance-fee. "

"Forward, the book!" cried Oscar, nodding to the youngest clerk, "andpray let us be serious. "

The youngest clerk climbed like a squirrel along the shelves whichlined the room, until he could reach a register placed on the topshelf, where a thick layer of dust had settled on it. 

"It is getting colored, " said the little clerk, exhibiting the volume. 

We must explain the perennial joke of this book, then much in vogue inlegal offices. In a clerical life where work is the rule, amusement isall the more treasured because it is rare; but, above all, a hoax or apractical joke is enjoyed with delight. This fancy or custom does, toa certain extent, explain Georges Marest's behavior in the coucou. Thegravest and most gloomy clerk is possessed, at times, with a cravingfor fun and quizzing. The instinct with which a set of young clerkswill seize and develop a hoax or a practical joke is reallymarvellous. The denizens of a studio and of a lawyer's office are, inthis line, superior to comedians. 

In buying a practice without clients, Desroches began, as it were, anew dynasty. This circumstance made a break in the usages relative tothe reception of new-comers. Moreover, Desroches having taken anoffice where legal documents had never yet been scribbled, had boughtnew tables, and white boxes edged with blue, also new. His staff wasmade up of clerks coming from other officers, without mutual ties, andsurprised, as one may say, to find themselves together. Godeschal, whohad served his apprenticeship under Maitre Derville, was not the sortof clerk to allow the precious tradition of the "welcome" to be lost. This "welcome" is a breakfast which every neophyte must give to the"ancients" of the office into which he enters. 

Now, about the time when Oscar came to the office, during the firstsix months of Desroches' installation, on a winter evening when thework had been got through more quickly than usual, and the clerks werewarming themselves before the fire preparatory to departure, it cameinto Godeschal's head to construct and compose a Register"architriclino-basochien, " of the utmost antiquity, saved from thefires of the Revolution, and derived through the procureur of theChatelet-Bordin, the immediate predecessor of Sauvaguest, theattorney, from whom Desroches had bought his practice. The work, whichwas highly approved by the other clerks, was begun by a search throughall the dealers in old paper for a register, made of paper with themark of the eighteenth century, duly bound in parchment, on whichshould be the stamp of an order in council. Having found such a volumeit was left about in the dust, on the stove, on the ground, in thekitchen, and even in what the clerks called the "chamber ofdeliberations"; and thus it obtained a mouldiness to delight anantiquary, cracks of aged dilapidation, and broken corners that lookedas though the rats had gnawed them; also, the gilt edges weretarnished with surprising perfection. As soon as the book was dulyprepared, the entries were made. The following extracts will show tothe most obtuse mind the purpose to which the office of MaitreDesroches devoted this register, the first sixty pages of which werefilled with reports of fictitious cases. On the first page appeared asfollows, in the legal spelling of the eighteenth century:--

 In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, so be it. This day, the feast of our lady Saincte-Geneviesve, patron saint of Paris, under whose protection have existed, since the year 1525 the clerks of this Practice, we the under-signed, clerks and sub-clerks of Maistre Jerosme-Sebastien Bordin, successor to the late Guerbet, in his lifetime procureur at the Chastelet, do hereby recognize the obligation under which we lie to renew and continue the register and the archives of installation of the clerks of this noble Practice, a glorious member of the Kingdom of Basoche, the which register, being now full in consequence of the many acts and deeds of our well-beloved predecessors, we have consigned to the Keeper of the Archives of the Palais for safe-keeping, with the registers of other ancient Practices; and we have ourselves gone, each and all, to hear mass at the parish church of Saint-Severin to solemnize the inauguration of this our new register. 

 In witness whereof we have hereunto signed our names: Malin, head-clerk; Grevin, second-clerk; Athanase Feret, clerk; Jacques Heret, clerk; Regnault de Saint-Jean-d'Angely, clerk; Bedeau, youngest clerk and gutter-jumper. 

 In the year of our Lord 1787. 

 After the mass aforesaid was heard, we conveyed ourselves to Courtille, where, at the common charge, we ordered a fine breakfast; which did not end till seven o'clock the next morning. 

This was marvellously well engrossed. An expert would have said thatit was written in the eighteenth century. Twenty-seven reports ofreceptions of neophytes followed, the last in the fatal year of 1792. Then came a blank of fourteen years; after which the register beganagain, in 1806, with the appointment of Bordin as attorney before thefirst Court of the Seine. And here follows the deed which proclaimedthe reconstitution of the kingdom of Basoche:--

 God in his mercy willed that, in spite of the fearful storms which have cruelly ravaged the land of France, now become a great Empire, the archives of the very celebrated Practice of Maitre Bordin should be preserved; and we, the undersigned, clerks of the very virtuous and very worthy Maitre Bordin, do not hesitate to attribute this unheard-of preservation, when all titles, privileges, and charters were lost, to the protection of Sainte-Genevieve, patron Saint of this office, and also to the reverence which the last of the procureurs of noble race had for all that belonged to ancient usages and customs. In the uncertainty of knowing the exact part of Sainte-Genevieve and Maitre Bordin in this miracle, we have resolved, each of us, to go to Saint-Etienne du Mont and there hear mass, which will be said before the altar of that Holy-Shepherdess who sends us sheep to shear, and also to offer a breakfast to our master Bordin, hoping that he will pay the costs. 

 Signed: Oignard, first clerk; Poidevin, second clerk; Proust, clerk; Augustin Coret, sub-clerk. 

 At the office. 

 November, 1806. 

 At three in the afternoon, the above-named clerks hereby return their grateful thanks to their excellent master, who regaled them at the establishment of the Sieur Rolland restaurateur, rue du Hasard, with exquisite wines of three regions, to wit: Bordeaux, Champagne, and Burgundy, also with dishes most carefully chosen, between the hours of four in the afternoon to half-past seven in the evening. Coffee, ices, and liqueurs were in abundance. But the presence of the master himself forbade the chanting of hymns of praise in clerical stanzas. No clerk exceeded the bounds of amiable gayety, for the worthy, respectable, and generous patron had promised to take his clerks to see Talma in "Brittanicus, " at the Theatre-Francais. Long life to Maitre Bordin! May God shed favors on his venerable pow! May he sell dear so glorious a practice! May the rich clients for whom he prays arrive! May his bills of costs and charges be paid in a trice! May our masters to come be like him! May he ever be loved by clerks in other worlds than this!

Here followed thirty-three reports of various receptions of newclerks, distinguished from one another by different writing anddifferent inks, also by quotations, signatures, and praises of goodcheer and wines, which seemed to show that each report was written andsigned on the spot, "inter pocula. "

Finally, under date of the month of June, 1822, the period whenDesroches took the oath, appears this constitutional declaration:--

 I, the undersigned, Francois-Claude-Marie Godeschal, called by Maitre Desroches to perform the difficult functions of head-clerk in a Practice where the clients have to be created, having learned through Maitre Derville, from whose office I come, of the existence of the famous archives architriclino-basochien, so celebrated at the Palais, have implored our gracious master to obtain them from his predecessor; for it has become of the highest importance to recover a document bearing date of the year 1786, which is connected with other documents deposited for safe-keeping at the Palais, the existence of which has been certified to by Messrs. Terrasse and Duclos, keepers of records, by the help of which we may go back to the year 1525, and find historical indications of the utmost value on the manners, customs, and cookery of the clerical race. 

 Having received a favorable answer to this request, the present office has this day been put in possession of these proofs of the worship in which our predecessors held the Goddess Bottle and good living. 

 In consequence thereof, for the edification of our successors, and to renew the chain of years and goblets, I, the said Godeschal, have invited Messieurs Doublet, second clerk; Vassal, third clerk; Herisson and Grandemain, clerks; and Dumets, sub-clerk, to breakfast, Sunday next, at the "Cheval Rouge, " on the Quai Saint-Bernard, where we will celebrate the victory of obtaining this volume which contains the Charter of our gullets. 

 This day, Sunday, June 27th, were imbibed twelve bottles of twelve different wines, regarded as exquisite; also were devoured melons, "pates au jus romanum, " and a fillet of beef with mushroom sauce. Mademoiselle Mariette, the illustrious sister of our head-clerk and leading lady of the Royal Academy of music and dancing, having obligingly put at the disposition of this Practice orchestra seats for the performance of this evening, it is proper to make this record of her generosity. Moreover, it is hereby decreed that the aforesaid clerks shall convey themselves in a body to that noble demoiselle to thank her in person, and declare to her that on the occasion of her first lawsuit, if the devil sends her one, she shall pay the money laid out upon it, and no more. 

 And our head-clerk Godeschal has been and is hereby proclaimed a flower of Basoche, and, more especially, a good fellow. May a man who treats so well be soon in treaty for a Practice of his own!

On this record were stains of wine, pates, and candle-grease. Toexhibit the stamp of truth that the writers had managed to put uponthese records, we may here give the report of Oscar's own pretendedreception:--

 This day, Monday, November 25th, 1822, after a session held yesterday at the rue de la Cerisaie, Arsenal quarter, at the house of Madame Clapart, mother of the candidate-basochien Oscar Husson, we, the undersigned, declare that the repast of admission surpassed our expectations. It was composed of radishes, pink and black, gherkins, anchovies, butter and olives for hors-d'oeuvre; a succulent soup of rice, bearing testimony to maternal solicitude, for we recognized therein a delicious taste of poultry; indeed, by acknowledgment of the new member, we learned that the gibbets of a fine stew prepared by the hands of Madame Clapart herself had been judiciously inserted into the family soup-pot with a care that is never taken except in such households. 

 Item: the said gibbets inclosed in a sea of jelly. 

 Item: a tongue of beef with tomatoes, which rendered us all tongue-tied automatoes. 

 Item: a compote of pigeons with caused us to think the angels had had a finger in it. 

 Item: a timbale of macaroni surrounded by chocolate custards. 

 Item: a dessert composed of eleven delicate dishes, among which we remarked (in spite of the tipsiness caused by sixteen bottles of the choicest wines) a compote of peaches of august and mirobolant delicacy. 

 The wines of Roussillon and those of the banks of the Rhone completely effaced those of Champagne and Burgundy. A bottle of maraschino and another of kirsch did, in spite of the exquisite coffee, plunge us into so marked an oenological ecstasy that we found ourselves at a late hour in the Bois de Boulogne instead of our domicile, where we thought we were. 

 In the statutes of our Order there is one rule which is rigidly enforced; namely, to allow all candidates for the privilege of Basoche to limit the magnificence of their feast of welcome to the length of their purse; for it is publicly notorious that no one delivers himself up to Themis if he has a fortune, and every clerk is, alas, sternly curtailed by his parents. Consequently, we hereby record with the highest praise the liberal conduct of Madame Clapart, widow, by her first marriage, of Monsieur Husson, father of the candidate, who is worthy of the hurrahs which we gave for her at dessert. 

 To all of which we hereby set our hands. 

 [Signed by all the clerks. ]

Three clerks had already been deceived by the Book, and three real"receptions of welcome, " were recorded on this imposing register. 

The day after the arrival of each neophyte, the little sub-clerk (theerrand-boy and "gutter-jumper") laid upon the new-comer's desk the"Archives Architriclino-Basochiennes, " and the clerks enjoyed thesight of his countenance as he studied its facetious pages. Interpocula each candidate had learned the secret of the farce, and therevelation inspired him with the desire to hoax his successor. 

We see now why Oscar, become in his turn participator in the hoax, called out to the little clerk, "Forward, the book!"

Ten minutes later a handsome young man, with a fine figure andpleasant face, presented himself, asked for Monsieur Desroches, andgave his name without hesitation to Godeschal. 

"I am Frederic Marest, " he said, "and I come to take the place ofthird clerk. "

"Monsieur Husson, " said Godeschal to Oscar, "show monsieur his seatand tell him about the customs of the office. "

The next day the new clerk found the register lying on his desk. Hetook it up, but after reading a few pages he began to laugh, saidnothing to the assembled clerks, and laid the book down again. 

"Messieurs, " he said, when the hour of departure came at five o'clock, "I have a cousin who is head clerk of the notary Maitre LeopoldHannequin; I will ask his advice as to what I ought to do for mywelcome. "

"That looks ill, " cried Godeschal, when Frederic had gone, "he hasn'tthe cut of a novice, that fellow!"

"We'll get some fun out of him yet, " said Oscar. 

 CHAPTER IX

 LA MARQUISE DE LAS FLORENTINAS Y CABIROLOS

The following day, at two o'clock, a young man entered the office, whom Oscar recognized as Georges Marest, now head-clerk of the notaryHannequin. 

"Ha! here's the friend of Ali pacha!" he exclaimed in a flippant way. 

"Hey! you here, Monsieur l'ambassadeur!" returned Georges, recollecting Oscar. 

"So you know each other?" said Godeschal, addressing Georges. 

"I should think so! We got into a scrape together, " replied Georges, "about two years ago. Yes, I had to leave Crottat and go to Hannequinin consequence of that affair. "

"What was it?" asked Godeschal. 

"Oh, nothing!" replied Georges, at a sign from Oscar. "We tried tohoax a peer of France, and he bowled us over. Ah ca! so you want tojockey my cousin, do you?"

"We jockey no one, " replied Oscar, with dignity; "there's ourcharter. "

And he presented the famous register, pointing to a place wheresentence of banishment was passed on a refractory who was stated tohave been forced, for acts of dishonesty, to leave the office in 1788. 

Georges laughed as he looked through the archives. 

"Well, well, " he said, "my cousin and I are rich, and we'll give you afete such as you never had before, --something to stimulate yourimaginations for that register. To-morrow (Sunday) you are bidden tothe Rocher de Cancale at two o'clock. Afterwards, I'll take you tospend the evening with Madame la Marquise de las Florentinas yCabirolos, where we shall play cards, and you'll see the elite of thewomen of fashion. Therefore, gentleman of the lower courts, " he added, with notarial assumption, "you will have to behave yourselves, andcarry your wine like the seigneurs of the Regency. "

"Hurrah!" cried the office like one man. "Bravo! very well! vivat!Long live the Marests!"

"What's all this about?" asked Desroches, coming out from his privateoffice. "Ah! is that you, Georges? I know what you are after; you wantto demoralize my clerks. "

So saying, he withdrew into his own room, calling Oscar after him. 

"Here, " he said, opening his cash-box, "are five hundred francs. Go tothe Palais, and get from the registrar a copy of the decision inVandernesse against Vandernesse; it must be served to-night ifpossible. I have promised a PROD of twenty francs to Simon. Wait forthe copy if it is not ready. Above all, don't let yourself be fooled;for Derville is capable, in the interest of his clients, to stick aspoke in our wheel. Count Felix de Vandernesse is more powerful thanhis brother, our client, the ambassador. Therefore keep your eyesopen, and if there's the slightest hitch come back to me at once. "

Oscar departed with the full intention of distinguishing himself inthis little skirmish, --the first affair entrusted to him since hisinstallation as second clerk. 

After the departure of Georges and Oscar, Godeschal sounded the newclerk to discover the joke which, as he thought, lay behind thisMarquise de las Florentinas y Cabirolos. But Frederic, with thecoolness and gravity of a king's attorney, continued his cousin'shoax, and by his way of answering, and his manner generally, hesucceeded in making the office believe that the marquise might reallybe the widow of a Spanish grandee, to whom his cousin Georges waspaying his addresses. Born in Mexico, and the daughter of Creoleparents, this young and wealthy widow was noted for the easy mannersand habits of the women of those climates. 

"She loves to laugh, she loves to sing, she loves to drink like me!"he said in a low voice, quoting the well-known song of Beranger. "Georges, " he added, "is very rich; he has inherited from his father(who was a widower) eighteen thousand francs a year, and with thetwelve thousand which an uncle has just left to each of us, he has anincome of thirty thousand. So he pays his debts, and gives up the law. He hopes to be Marquis de las Florentinas, for the young widow ismarquise in her own right, and has the privilege of giving her titlesto her husband. "

Though the clerks were still a good deal undecided in mind as to themarquise, the double perspective of a breakfast at the Rocher deCancale and a fashionable festivity put them into a state of joyousexpectation. They reserved all points as to the Spanish lady, intending to judge her without appeal after the meeting. 

The Marquise de las Florentinas y Cabirolos was neither more nor lessthan Mademoiselle Agathe-Florentine Cabirolle, first danseuse at theGaiete, with whom uncle Cardot was in the habit of singing "MereGodichon. " A year after the very reparable loss of Madame Cardot, thesuccessful merchant encountered Florentine as she was leaving Coulon'sdancing-class. Attracted by the beauty of that choregraphic flower(Florentine was then about thirteen years of age), he followed her tothe rue Pastourel, where he found that the future star of the balletwas the daughter of a portress. Two weeks later, the mother anddaughter, established in the rue de Crussol, were enjoying a modestcompetence. It was to this protector of the arts--to use theconsecrated phrase--that the theatre owed the brilliant danseuse. Thegenerous Maecenas made two beings almost beside themselves with joy inthe possession of mahogany furniture, hangings, carpets, and a regularkitchen; he allowed them a woman-of-all-work, and gave them twohundred and fifty francs a month for their living. Pere Cardot, withhis hair in "pigeon-wings, " seemed like an angel, and was treated withthe attention due to a benefactor. To him this was the age of gold. 

For three years the warbler of "Mere Godichon" had the wise policy tokeep Mademoiselle Cabirolle and her mother in this little apartment, which was only ten steps from the theatre; but he gave the girl, outof love for the choregraphic art, the great Vestris for a master. In1820 he had the pleasure of seeing Florentine dance her first "pas" inthe ballet of a melodrama entitled "The Ruins of Babylon. " Florentinewas then about sixteen. Shortly after this debut Pere Cardot became an"old screw" in the eyes of his protegee; but as he had the sense tosee that a danseuse at the Gaiete had a certain rank to maintain, heraised the monthly stipend to five hundred francs, for which, althoughhe did not again become an angel, he was, at least, a "friend forlife, " a second father. This was his silver age. 

From 1820 to 1823, Florentine had the experience of every danseuse ofnineteen to twenty years of age. Her friends were the illustriousMariette and Tullia, leading ladies of the Opera, Florine, and alsopoor Coralie, torn too early from the arts, and love, and Camusot. Asold Cardot had by this time acquired five additional years, he hadfallen into the indulgence of a semi-paternity, which is the way withold men towards the young talents they have trained, and which owetheir success to them. Besides, where could he have found anotherFlorentine who knew all his habits and likings, and with whom he andhis friends could sing "Mere Godichon"? So the little old man remainedunder a yoke that was semi-conjugal and also irresistibly strong. Thiswas the brass age for the old fellow. 

During the five years of silver and gold Pere Cardot had laid byeighty thousand francs. The old gentleman, wise from experience, foresaw that by the time he was seventy Florentine would be of age, probably engaged at the Opera, and, consequently, wanting all theluxury of a theatrical star. Some days before the party mentioned byGeorges, Pere Cardot had spent the sum of forty-five thousand francsin fitting up for his Florentine the former apartment of the lateCoralie. In Paris there are suites of rooms as well as houses andstreets that have their predestinations. Enriched with a magnificentservice of plate, the "prima danseuse" of the Gaiete began to givedinners, spent three hundred francs a month on her dress, never wentout except in a hired carriage, and had a maid for herself, a cook, and a little footman. 

In fact, an engagement at the Opera was already in the wind. The Cocond'Or did homage to its first master by sending its most splendidproducts for the gratification of Mademoiselle Cabirolle, now calledFlorentine. The magnificence which suddenly burst upon her apartmentin the rue de Vendome would have satisfied the most ambitioussupernumerary. After being the master of the ship for seven years, Cardot now found himself towed along by a force of unlimited caprice. But the luckless old gentleman was fond of his tyrant. Florentine wasto close his eyes; he meant to leave her a hundred thousand francs. The iron age had now begun. 

Georges Marest, with thirty thousand francs a year, and a handsomeface, courted Florentine. Every danseuse makes a point of having someyoung man who will take her to drive, and arrange the gay excursionsinto the country which all such women delight in. Howeverdisinterested she may be, the courtship of such a star is a passionwhich costs some trifles to the favored mortal. There are dinners atrestaurants, boxes at the theatres, carriages to go to the environsand return, choice wines consumed in profusion, --for an opera danseuseeats and drinks like an athlete. Georges amused himself like otheryoung men who pass at a jump from paternal discipline to a richindependence, and the death of his uncle, nearly doubling his means, had still further enlarged his ideas. As long as he had only hispatrimony of eighteen thousand francs a year, his intention was tobecome a notary, but (as his cousin remarked to the clerks ofDesroches) a man must be stupid who begins a profession with thefortune most men hope to acquire in order to leave it. Wiser thenGeorges, Frederic persisted in following the career of public office, and of putting himself, as we have seen, in training for it. 

A young man as handsome and attractive as Georges might very wellaspire to the hand of a rich creole; and the clerks in Desroches'office, all of them the sons of poor parents, having never frequentedthe great world, or, indeed, known anything about it, put themselvesinto their best clothes on the following day, impatient enough tobehold, and be presented to the Mexican Marquise de las Florentinas yCabirolos. 

"What luck, " said Oscar to Godeschal, as they were getting up in themorning, "that I had just ordered a new coat and trousers andwaistcoat, and that my dear mother had made me that fine outfit! Ihave six frilled shirts of fine linen in the dozen she made for me. Weshall make an appearance! Ha! ha! suppose one of us were to carry offthe Creole marchioness from that Georges Marest!"

"Fine occupation that, for a clerk in our office!" cried Godeschal. "Will you never control your vanity, popinjay?"

"Ah! monsieur, " said Madame Clapart, who entered the room at thatmoment to bring her son some cravats, and overhead the last words ofthe head-clerk, "would to God that my Oscar might always follow youradvice. It is what I tell him all the time: 'Imitate MonsieurGodeschal; listen to what he tells you. '"

"He'll go all right, madame, " interposed Godeschal, "but he mustn'tcommit any more blunders like one he was guilty of last night, orhe'll lose the confidence of the master. Monsieur Desroches won'tstand any one not succeeding in what he tells them to do. He orderedyour son, for a first employment in his new clerkship, to get a copyof a judgment which ought to have been served last evening, and Oscar, instead of doing so, allowed himself to be fooled. The master wasfurious. It's a chance if I have been able to repair the mischief bygoing this morning, at six o'clock, to see the head-clerk at thePalais, who has promised me to have a copy ready by seven o'clockto-morrow morning. "

"Ah, Godeschal!" cried Oscar, going up to him and pressing his hand. "You are, indeed, a true friend. "

"Ah, monsieur!" said Madame Clapart, "a mother is happy, indeed, inknowing that her son has a friend like you; you may rely upon agratitude which can end only with my life. Oscar, one thing I want tosay to you now. Distrust that Georges Marest. I wish you had never methim again, for he was the cause of your first great misfortune inlife. "

"Was he? How so?" asked Godeschal. 

The too devoted mother explained succinctly the adventure of her poorOscar in Pierrotin's coucou. 

"I am certain, " said Godeschal, "that that blagueur is preparing sometrick against us for this evening. As for me, I can't go to theMarquise de las Florentinas' party, for my sister wants me to draw upthe terms of her new engagement; I shall have to leave after thedessert. But, Oscar, be on your guard. They will ask you to play, and, of course, the Desroches office mustn't draw back; but be careful. Youshall play for both of us; here's a hundred francs, " said the goodfellow, knowing that Oscar's purse was dry from the demands of histailor and bootmaker. "Be prudent; remember not to play beyond thatsum; and don't let yourself get tipsy, either with play or libations. Saperlotte! a second clerk is already a man of weight, and shouldn'tgamble on notes, or go beyond a certain limit in anything. Hisbusiness is to get himself admitted to the bar. Therefore don't drinktoo much, don't play too long, and maintain a proper dignity, --that'syour rule of conduct. Above all, get home by midnight; for, remember, you must be at the Palais to-morrow morning by seven to get thatjudgment. A man is not forbidden to amuse himself, but business first, my boy. "

"Do you hear that, Oscar?" said Madame Clapart. "Monsieur Godeschal isindulgent; see how well he knows how to combine the pleasures of youthand the duties of his calling. "

Madame Clapart, on the arrival of the tailor and the bootmaker withOscar's new clothes, remained alone with Godeschal, in order to returnhim the hundred francs he had just given her son. 

"Ah, monsieur!" she said, "the blessings of a mother will follow youwherever you go, and in all your enterprises. "

Poor woman! she now had the supreme delight of seeing her sonwell-dressed, and she gave him a gold watch, the price of which shehad saved by economy, as the reward of his good conduct. 

"You draw for the conscription next week, " she said, "and to prepare, in case you get a bad number, I have been to see your uncle Cardot. Heis very much pleased with you; and so delighted to know you are asecond clerk at twenty, and to hear of your successful examination atthe law-school, that he promised me the money for a substitute. Arenot you glad to think that your own good conduct has brought suchreward? Though you have some privations to bear, remember thehappiness of being able, five years from now, to buy a practice. Andthink, too, my dear little kitten, how happy you make your mother. "

Oscar's face, somewhat thinned by study, had acquired, through habitsof business, a serious expression. He had reached his full growth, hisbeard was thriving; adolescence had given place to virility. Themother could not refrain from admiring her son and kissing him, as shesaid:--

"Amuse yourself, my dear boy, but remember the advice of our goodMonsieur Godeschal. Ah! by the bye, I was nearly forgetting! Here's apresent our friend Moreau sends you. See! what a pretty pocket-book. "

"And I want it, too; for the master gave me five hundred francs to getthat cursed judgment of Vandernesse versus Vandernesse, and I don'twant to leave that sum of money in my room. "

"But, surely, you are not going to carry it with you!" exclaimed hismother, in alarm. "Suppose you should lose a sum like that! Hadn't youbetter give it to Monsieur Godeschal for safe keeping?"

"Godeschal!" cried Oscar, who thought his mother's suggestionexcellent. 

But Godeschal, who, like all clerks, has his time to himself onSundays, from ten to two o'clock, had already departed. 

When his mother left him, Oscar went to lounge upon the boulevardsuntil it was time to go to Georges Marest's breakfast. Why not displaythose beautiful clothes which he wore with a pride and joy which allyoung fellows who have been pinched for means in their youth willremember. A pretty waistcoat with a blue ground and a palm-leafpattern, a pair of black cashmere trousers pleated, a black coat verywell fitting, and a cane with a gilt top, the cost of which he hadsaved himself, caused a natural joy to the poor lad, who thought ofhis manner of dress on the day of that journey to Presles, as theeffect that Georges had then produced upon him came back to his mind. 

Oscar had before him the perspective of a day of happiness; he was tosee the gay world at last! Let us admit that a clerk deprived ofenjoyments, though longing for dissipation, was likely to let hisunchained senses drive the wise counsels of his mother and Godeschalcompletely out of his mind. To the shame of youth let it be added thatgood advice is never lacking to it. In the matter of Georges, Oscarhimself had a feeling of aversion for him; he felt humiliated before awitness of that scene in the salon at Presles when Moreau had flunghim at the count's feet. The moral senses have their laws, which areimplacable, and we are always punished for disregarding them. There isone in particular, which the animals themselves obey withoutdiscussion, and invariably; it is that which tells us to avoid thosewho have once injured us, with or without intention, voluntarily orinvoluntarily. The creature from whom we receive either damage orannoyance will always be displeasing to us. Whatever may be his rankor the degree of affection in which he stands to us, it is best tobreak away from him; for our evil genius has sent him to us. Thoughthe Christian sentiment is opposed to it, obedience to this terriblelaw is essentially social and conservative. The daughter of James II. , who seated herself upon her father's throne, must have caused him manya wound before that usurpation. Judas had certainly given somemurderous blow to Jesus before he betrayed him. We have within us aninward power of sight, an eye of the soul which foresees catastrophes;and the repugnance that comes over us against the fateful being is theresult of that foresight. Though religion orders us to conquer it, distrust remains, and its voice is forever heard. Would Oscar, attwenty years of age, have the wisdom to listen to it?

Alas! when, at half-past two o'clock, Oscar entered the salon of theRocher de Cancale, --where were three invited persons besides theclerks, to wit: an old captain of dragoons, named Giroudeau; Finot, ajournalist who might procure an engagement for Florentine at theOpera, and du Bruel, an author, the friend of Tullia, one ofMariette's rivals, --the second clerk felt his secret hostility vanishat the first handshaking, the first dashes of conversation as they sataround a table luxuriously served. Georges, moreover, made himselfcharming to Oscar. 

"You've taken to private diplomacy, " he said; "for what difference isthere between a lawyer and an ambassador? only that between a nationand an individual. Ambassadors are the attorneys of Peoples. If I canever be useful to you, let me know. "

"Well, " said Oscar, "I'll admit to you now that you once did me a verygreat harm. "

"Pooh!" said Georges, after listening to the explanation for which heasked; "it was Monsieur de Serizy who behaved badly. His wife! Iwouldn't have her at any price; neither would I like to be in thecount's red skin, minister of State and peer of France as he is. Hehas a small mind, and I don't care a fig for him now. "

Oscar listened with true pleasure to these slurs on the count, forthey diminished, in a way, the importance of his fault; and he echoedthe spiteful language of the ex-notary, who amused himself bypredicting the blows to the nobility of which the bourgeoisie werealready dreaming, --blows which were destined to become a reality in1830. 

At half-past three the solid eating of the feast began; the dessertdid not appear till eight o'clock, --each course having taken two hoursto serve. None but clerks can eat like that! The stomachs of eighteenand twenty are inexplicable to the medical art. The wines were worthyof Borrel, who in those days had superseded the illustrious Balaine, the creator of the first restaurant for delicate and perfectlyprepared food in Paris, --that is to say, the whole world. 

The report of this Belshazzar's feast for the architriclino-basochienregister was duly drawn up, beginning, "Inter pocula aurearestauranti, qui vulgo dicitur Rupes Cancali. " Every one can imaginethe fine page now added to the Golden Book of jurisprudentialfestivals. 

Godeschal disappeared after signing the report, leaving the elevenguests, stimulated by the old captain of the Imperial Guard, to thewines, toasts, and liqueurs of a dessert composed of choice and earlyfruits, in pyramids that rivalled the obelisk of Thebes. By half-pastten the little sub-clerk was in such a state that Georges packed himinto a coach, paid his fare, and gave the address of his mother to thedriver. The remaining ten, all as drunk as Pitt and Dundas, talked ofgoing on foot along the boulevards, considering the fine evening, tothe house of the Marquise de las Florentinas y Cabirolos, where, aboutmidnight, they might expect to find the most brilliant society ofParis. They felt the need of breathing the pure air into their lungs;but, with the exception of Georges, Giroudeau, du Bruel, and Finot, all four accustomed to Parisian orgies, not one of the party couldwalk. Consequently, Georges sent to a livery-stable for three opencarriages, in which he drove his company for an hour round theexterior boulevards from Monmartre to the Barriere du Trone. Theyreturned by Bercy, the quays, and the boulevards to the rue deVendome. 

The clerks were fluttering still in the skies of fancy to which youthis lifted by intoxication, when their amphitryon introduced them intoFlorentine's salon. There sparkled a bevy of stage princesses, who, having been informed, no doubt, of Frederic's joke, were amusingthemselves by imitating the women of good society. They were thenengaged in eating ices. The wax-candles flamed in the candelabra. Tullia's footmen and those of Madame du Val-Noble and Florine, all infull livery, where serving the dainties on silver salvers. Thehangings, a marvel of Lyonnaise workmanship, fastened by gold cords, dazzled all eyes. The flowers of the carpet were like a garden. Therichest "bibelots" and curiosities danced before the eyes of thenew-comers. 

At first, and in the state to which Georges had brought them, theclerks, and more particularly Oscar, believed in the Marquise de lasFlorentinas y Cabirolos. Gold glittered on four card-tables in thebed-chamber. In the salon, the women were playing at vingt-et-un, keptby Nathan, the celebrated author. 

After wandering, tipsy and half asleep, through the dark exteriorboulevards, the clerks now felt that they had wakened in the palace ofArmida. Oscar, presented to the marquise by Georges, was quitestupefied, and did not recognize the danseuse he had seen at theGaiete, in this lady, aristocratically decolletee and swathed inlaces, till she looked like the vignette of a keepsake, who receivedhim with manners and graces the like of which was neither in thememory nor the imagination of a young clerk rigidly brought up. Afteradmiring the splendors of the apartment and the beautiful women theredisplayed, who had all outdone each other in their dress for thisoccasion, Oscar was taken by the hand and led by Florentine to avingt-et-un table. 

"Let me present you, " she said, "to the beautiful Marquise d'Anglade, one of my nearest friends. "

And she took Oscar to the pretty Fanny Beaupre, who had just madeherself a reputation at the Porte-Saint-Martin, in a melodramaentitled "La Famille d'Anglade. "

"My dear, " said Florentine, "allow me to present to you a charmingyouth, whom you can take as a partner in the game. "

"Ah! that will be delightful, " replied the actress, smiling, as shelooked at Oscar. "I am losing. Shall we go shares, monsieur?"

"Madame la marquise, I am at your orders, " said Oscar, sitting downbeside her. 

"Put down the money; I'll play; you shall being me luck! See, here aremy last hundred francs. "

And the "marquise" took out from her purse, the rings of which wereadorned with diamonds, five gold pieces. Oscar pulled out his hundredin silver five-franc pieces, much ashamed at having to mingle suchignoble coins with gold. In ten throws the actress lost the twohundred francs. 

"Oh! how stupid!" she cried. "I'm banker now. But we'll play togetherstill, won't we?"

Fanny Beaupre rose to take her place as banker, and Oscar, findinghimself observed by the whole table, dared not retire on the groundthat he had no money. Speech failed him, and his tongue clove to theroof of his mouth. 

"Lend me five hundred francs, " said the actress to the danseuse. 

Florentine brought the money, which she obtained from Georges, who hadjust passed eight times at ecarte. 

"Nathan has won twelve hundred francs, " said the actress to Oscar. "Bankers always win; we won't let them fool us, will we?" shewhispered in his ear. 

Persons of nerve, imagination, and dash will understand how it wasthat poor Oscar opened his pocket-book and took out the note of fivehundred francs which Desroches had given him. He looked at Nathan, thedistinguished author, who now began, with Florine, to play a heavygame against the bank. 

"Come, my little man, take 'em up, " cried Fanny Beaupre, signing toOscar to rake in the two hundred francs which Nathan and Florine hadpunted. 

The actress did not spare taunts or jests on those who lost. Sheenlivened the game with jokes which Oscar thought singular; butreflection was stifled by joy; for the first two throws produced again of two thousand francs. Oscar then thought of feigning illnessand making his escape, leaving his partner behind him; but "honor"kept him there. Three more turns and the gains were lost. Oscar felt acold sweat running down his back, and he was sobered completely. 

The next two throws carried off the thousand francs of their mutualstake. Oscar was consumed with thirst, and drank three glasses oficed punch one after the other. The actress now led him into thebed-chamber, where the rest of the company were playing, talkingfrivolities with an easy air. But by this time the sense of hiswrong-doing overcame him; the figure of Desroches appeared to him likea vision. He turned aside to a dark corner and sat down, putting hishandkerchief to his eyes, and wept. Florentine noticed the attitude oftrue grief, which, because it is sincere, is certain to strike the eyeof one who acts. She ran to him, took the handkerchief from his hand, and saw his tears; then she led him into a boudoir alone. 

"What is it, my child?" she said. 

At the tone and accent of that voice Oscar recognized a motherlykindness which is often found in women of her kind, and he answeredopenly:--

"I have lost five hundred francs which my employer gave me to obtain adocument to-morrow morning; there's nothing for me but to fling myselfinto the river; I am dishonored. "

"How silly you are!" she said. "Stay where you are; I'll get you athousand francs and you can win back what you've lost; but don't riskmore than five hundred, so that you may be sure of your master'smoney. Georges plays a fine game at ecarte; bet on him. "

Oscar, frightened by his position, accepted the offer of the mistressof the house. 

"Ah!" he thought, "it is only women of rank who are capable of suchkindness. Beautiful, noble, rich! how lucky Georges is!"

He received the thousand francs from Florentine and returned to bet onhis hoaxer. Georges had just passed for the fourth time when Oscar satdown beside him. The other players saw with satisfaction the arrivalof a new better; for all, with the instinct of gamblers, took the sideof Giroudeau, the old officer of the Empire. 

"Messieurs, " said Georges, "you'll be punished for deserting me; Ifeel in the vein. Come, Oscar, we'll make an end of them!"

Georges and his partner lost five games running. After losing thethousand francs Oscar was seized with the fury of play and insisted ontaking the cards himself. By the result of a chance not at alluncommon with those who play for the first time, he won. But Georgesbewildered him with advice; told him when to throw the cards, and evensnatched them from his hand; so that this conflict of wills andintuitions injured his vein. By three o'clock in the morning, aftervarious changes of fortune, and still drinking punch, Oscar came downto his last hundred francs. He rose with a heavy head, completelystupefied, took a few steps forward, and fell upon a sofa in theboudoir, his eyes closing in a leaden sleep. 

"Mariette, " said Fanny Beaupre to Godeschal's sister, who had come inabout two o'clock, "do you dine here to-morrow? Camusot and PereCardot are coming, and we'll have some fun. "

"What!" cried Florentine, "and my old fellow never told me!"

"He said he'd tell you to-morrow morning, " remarked Fanny Beaupre. 

"The devil take him and his orgies!" exclaimed Florentine. "He andCamusot are worse than magistrates or stage-managers. But we have verygood dinners here, Mariette, " she continued. "Cardot always ordersthem from Chevet's; bring your Duc de Maufrigneuse and we'll make themdance like Tritons. "

Hearing the names of Cardot and Camusot, Oscar made an effort to throwoff his sleep; but he could only mutter a few words which were notunderstood, and then he fell back upon the silken cushions. 

"You'll have to keep him here all night, " said Fanny Beaupre, laughing, to Florentine. 

"Oh! poor boy! he is drunk with punch and despair both. It is thesecond clerk in your brother's office, " she said to Mariette. "He haslost the money his master gave him for some legal affair. He wanted todrown himself; so I lent him a thousand francs, but those brigandsFinot and Giroudeau won them from him. Poor innocent!"

"But we ought to wake him, " said Mariette. "My brother won't makelight of it, nor his master either. "

"Oh, wake him if you can, and carry him off with you!" saidFlorentine, returning to the salon to receive the adieux of somedeparting guests. 

Presently those who remained began what was called "characterdancing, " and by the time it was broad daylight, Florentine, tiredout, went to bed, oblivious to Oscar, who was still in the boudoirsound asleep. 

 CHAPTER X

 ANOTHER CATASTROPHE

About eleven the next morning, a terrible sound awoke the unfortunateclerk. Recognizing the voice of his uncle Cardot, he thought it wiseto feign sleep, and so turned his face into the yellow velvet cushionson which he had passed the night. 

"Really, my little Florentine, " said the old gentleman, "this isneither right nor sensible; you danced last evening in 'Les Ruines, 'and you have spent the night in an orgy. That's deliberately going towork to lose your freshness. Besides which, it was ungrateful toinaugurate this beautiful apartment without even letting me know. Whoknows what has been going on here?"

"Old monster!" cried Florentine, "haven't you a key that lets you inat all hours? My ball lasted till five in the morning, and you havethe cruelty to come and wake me up at eleven!"

"Half-past eleven, Titine, " observed Cardot, humbly. "I came out earlyto order a dinner fit for an archbishop at Chevet's. Just see how thecarpets are stained! What sort of people did you have here?"

"You needn't complain, for Fanny Beaupre told me you were coming todinner with Camusot, and to please you I've invited Tullia, du Bruel, Mariette, the Duc de Maufrigneuse, Florine, and Nathan. So you'll havethe four loveliest creatures ever seen behind the foot-lights; we'lldance you a 'pas de Zephire. '"

"It is enough to kill you to lead such a life!" cried old Cardot; "andlook at the broken glasses! What pillage! The antechamber actuallymakes me shudder--"

At this instant the wrathful old gentleman stopped short as ifmagnetized, like a bird which a snake is charming. He saw the outlineof a form in a black coat through the door of the boudoir. 

"Ah, Mademoiselle Cabirolle!" he said at last. 

"Well, what?" she asked. 

The eyes of the danseuse followed those of the little old man; andwhen she recognized the presence of the clerk she went off into suchfits of laughter that not only was the old gentleman nonplussed, butOscar was compelled to appear; for Florentine took him by the arm, still pealing with laughter at the conscience-stricken faces of theuncle and nephew. 

"You here, nephew?"

"Nephew! so he's your nephew?" cried Florentine, with another burst oflaughter. "You never told me about him. Why didn't Mariette carry youoff?" she said to Oscar, who stood there petrified. "What can he donow, poor boy?"

"Whatever he pleases!" said Cardot, sharply, marching to the door asif to go away. 

"One moment, papa Cardot. You will be so good as to get your nephewout of a scrape into which I led him; for he played the money of hismaster and lost it, and I lend him a thousand francs to win it back, and he lost that too. "

"Miserable boy! you lost fifteen hundred francs at play at your age?"

"Oh, uncle, uncle!" cried poor Oscar, plunged by these words into allthe horrors of his position, and falling on his knees before hisuncle, with clasped hands, "It is twelve o'clock! I am lost, dishonored! Monsieur Desroches will have no pity! He gave me the moneyfor an important affair, in which his pride was concerned. I was toget a paper at the Palais in the case of Vandernesse versusVandernesse! What will become of me? Oh, save me for the sake of myfather and aunt! Come with me to Monsieur Desroches, and explain it tohim; make some excuse, --anything!"

These sentences were jerked out through sobs and tears that might havemoved the sphinx of Luxor. 

"Old skinflint!" said the danseuse, who was crying, "will you let yourown nephew be dishonored, --the son of the man to whom you owe yourfortune?--for his name is Oscar Husson. Save him, or Titine will denyyou forever!"

"But how did he come here?" asked Cardot. 

"Don't you see that the reason he forgot to go for those papers wasbecause he was drunk and overslept himself. Georges and his cousinFrederic took all the clerks in his office to a feast at the Rocher deCancale. "

Pere Cardot looked at Florentine and hesitated. 

"Come, come, " she said, "you old monkey, shouldn't I have hid himbetter if there had been anything else in it?"

"There, take your five hundred francs, you scamp!" said Cardot to hisnephew, "and remember, that's the last penny you'll ever get from me. Go and make it up with your master if you can. I'll return thethousand francs which you borrowed of mademoiselle; but I'll neverhear another word about you. "

Oscar disappeared, not wishing to hear more. Once in the street, however, he knew not where to go. 

Chance which destroys men and chance which saves them were both makingequal efforts for and against Oscar during that fateful morning. Buthe was doomed to fall before a master who forgave no failure in anyaffair he had once undertaken. When Mariette reached home that night, she felt alarmed at what might happen to the youth in whom her brothertook interest and she wrote a hasty note to Godeschal, telling himwhat had happened to Oscar and inclosing a bank bill for five hundredfrancs to repair his loss. The kind-hearted creature went to sleepafter charging her maid to carry the little note to Desroches' officebefore seven o'clock in the morning. Godeschal, on his side, gettingup at six and finding that Oscar had not returned, guessed what hadhappened. He took the five hundred francs from his own little hoardand rushed to the Palais, where he obtained a copy of the judgment andreturned in time to lay it before Desroches by eight o'clock. 

Meantime Desroches, who always rose at four, was in his office byseven. Mariette's maid, not finding the brother of her mistress in hisbedroom, came down to the office and there met Desroches, to whom shevery naturally offered the note. 

"Is it about business?" he said; "I am Monsieur Desroches. "

"You can see, monsieur, " replied the maid. 

Desroches opened the letter and read it. Finding the five-hundred-francnote, he went into his private office furiously angry with his secondclerk. About half-past seven he heard Godeschal dictating to thesecond head-clerk a copy of the document in question, and a fewmoments later the good fellow entered his master's office with an airof triumph in his heart. 

"Did Oscar Husson fetch the paper this morning from Simon?" inquiredDesroches. 

"Yes, monsieur. "

"Who gave him the money?"

"Why, you did, Saturday, " replied Godeschal. 

"Then it rains five-hundred-franc notes, " cried Desroches. "Look here, Godeschal, you are a fine fellow, but that little Husson does notdeserve such generosity. I hate idiots, but I hate still more the menwho will go wrong in spite of the fatherly care which watches overthem. " He gave Godeschal Mariette's letter and the five-hundred-francnote which she had sent. "You must excuse my having opened it, " hesaid, "but your sister's maid told me it was on business. DismissHusson. "

"Poor unhappy boy! what grief he has caused me! " said Godeschal, "that tall ne'er-do-well of a Georges Marest is his evil genius; heought to flee him like the plague; if not, he'll bring him to somethird disgrace. "

"What do you mean by that?" asked Desroches. 

Godeschal then related briefly the affair of the journey to Presles. 

"Ah! yes, " said the lawyer, "I remember Joseph Bridau told me thatstory about the time it happened. It is to that meeting that we owethe favor Monsieur de Serizy has since shown in the matter of Joseph'sbrother, Philippe Bridau. "

At this moment Moreau, to whom the case of the Vandernesse estate wasof much importance, entered the office. The marquis wished to sellthe land in parcels and the count was opposed to such a sale. Theland-agent received therefore the first fire of Desroches' wrathagainst his ex-second clerk and all the threatening prophecies which hefulminated against him. The result was that this most sincere friendand protector of the unhappy youth came to the conclusion that hisvanity was incorrigible. 

"Make him a barrister, " said Desroches. "He has only his lastexamination to pass. In that line, his defects might prove virtues, for self-love and vanity give tongues to half the attorneys. "

At this time Clapart, who was ill, was being nursed by his wife, --apainful task, a duty without reward. The sick man tormented the poorcreature, who was now doomed to learn what venomous and spitefulteasing a half-imbecile man, whom poverty had rendered craftilysavage, could be capable of in the weary tete-a-tete of each endlessday. Delighted to turn a sharpened arrow in the sensitive heart of themother, he had, in a measure, studied the fears that Oscar's behaviorand defects inspired in the poor woman. When a mother receives fromher child a shock like that of the affair at Presles, she continues ina state of constant fear, and, by the manner in which his wife boastedof Oscar every time he obtained the slightest success, Clapart knewthe extent of her secret uneasiness, and he took pains to rouse it onevery occasion. 

"Well, Madame, " Clapart would say, "Oscar is doing better than I evenhoped. That journey to Presles was only a heedlessness of youth. Wherecan you find young lads who do not commit just such faults? Poorchild! he bears his privations heroically! If his father had lived, hewould never have had any. God grant he may know how to control hispassions!" etc. , etc. 

While all these catastrophes were happening in the rue de Vendome andthe rue de Bethisy, Clapart, sitting in the chimney corner, wrapped inan old dressing-gown, watched his wife, who was engaged over the firein their bedroom in simultaneously making the family broth, Clapart's"tisane, " and her own breakfast. 

"Mon Dieu! I wish I knew how the affair of yesterday ended. Oscar wasto breakfast at the Rocher de Cancale and spend the evening with amarquise--"

"Don't trouble yourself! Sooner or later you'll find out about yourswan, " said her husband. "Do you really believe in that marquise?Pooh! A young man who has senses and a taste for extravagance likeOscar can find such ladies as that on every bush--if he pays for them. Some fine morning you'll find yourself with a load of debt on yourback. "

"You are always trying to put me in despair!" cried Madame Clapart. "You complained that my son lived on your salary, and never has hecost you a penny. For two years you haven't had the slightest cause ofcomplaint against him; here he is second clerk, his uncle and MonsieurMoreau pay all expenses, and he earns, himself, a salary of eighthundred francs. If we have bread to eat in our old age we may owe itall to that dear boy. You are really too unjust--"

"You call my foresight unjust, do you?" replied the invalid, crossly. 

Just then the bell rang loudly. Madame Clapart ran to open the door, and remained in the outer room with Moreau, who had come to soften theblow which Oscar's new folly would deal to the heart of his poormother. 

"What! he gambled with the money of the office?" she cried, burstinginto tears. 

"Didn't I tell you so, hey?" said Clapart, appearing like a spectre atthe door of the salon whither his curiosity had brought him. 

"Oh! what shall we do with him?" said Madame Clapart, whose grief madeher impervious to Clapart's taunt. 

"If he bore my name, " replied Moreau, "I should wait composedly tillhe draws for the conscription, and if he gets a fatal number I shouldnot provide him with a substitute. This is the second time your sonhas committed a folly out of sheer vanity. Well, vanity may inspirefine deeds in war and may advance him in the career of a soldier. Besides, six years of military service will put some lead into hishead; and as he has only his last legal examination to pass, it won'tbe much ill-luck for him if he doesn't become a lawyer till he istwenty-six; that is, if he wants to continue in the law after paying, as they say, his tax of blood. By that time, at any rate, he will havebeen severely punished, he will have learned experience, andcontracted habits of subordination. Before making his probation at thebar he will have gone through his probations in life. "

"If that is your decision for a son, " said Madame Clapart, "I see thatthe heart of a father is not like that of a mother. My poor Oscar acommon soldier!--"

"Would you rather he flung himself headforemost into the Seine aftercommitting a dishonorable action? He cannot now become a solicitor; doyou think him steady and wise enough to be a barrister? No. While hisreason is maturing, what will he become? A dissipated fellow. Thediscipline of the army will, at least, preserve him from that. "

"Could he not go into some other office? His uncle Cardot has promisedto pay for his substitute; Oscar is to dedicate his graduating thesisto him. "

At this moment carriage-wheels were heard, and a hackney-coachcontaining Oscar and all his worldly belongings stopped before thedoor. The luckless young man came up at once. 

"Ah! here you are, Monsieur Joli-Coeur!" cried Clapart. 

Oscar kissed his mother, and held out to Moreau a hand which thelatter refused to take. To this rebuff Oscar replied by a reproachfullook, the boldness of which he had never shown before. Then he turnedon Clapart. 

"Listen to me, monsieur, " said the youth, transformed into a man. "Youworry my poor mother devilishly, and that's your right, for she is, unfortunately, your wife. But as for me, it is another thing. I shallbe of age in a few months; and you have no rights over me even as aminor. I have never asked anything of you. Thanks to Monsieur Moreau, I have never cost you one penny, and I owe you no gratitude. Therefore, I say, let me alone!"

Clapart, hearing this apostrophe, slunk back to his sofa in thechimney corner. The reasoning and the inward fury of the young man, who had just received a lecture from his friend Godeschal, silencedthe imbecile mind of the sick man. 

"A momentary temptation, such as you yourself would have yielded to atmy age, " said Oscar to Moreau, "has made me commit a fault whichDesroches thinks serious, though it is only a peccadillo. I am moreprovoked with myself for taking Florentine of the Gaiete for amarquise than I am for losing fifteen hundred francs after a littledebauch in which everybody, even Godeschal, was half-seas over. Thistime, at any rate, I've hurt no one by myself. I'm cured of suchthings forever. If you are willing to help me, Monsieur Moreau, Iswear to you that the six years I must still stay a clerk before I canget a practice shall be spent without--"

"Stop there!" said Moreau. "I have three children, and I can make nopromises. "

"Never mind, never mind, " said Madame Clapart to her son, casting areproachful glance at Moreau. "Your uncle Cardot--"

"I have no longer an uncle Cardot, " replied Oscar, who related thescene at the rue de Vendome. 

Madame Clapart, feeling her legs give way under the weight of herbody, staggered to a chair in the dining-room, where she fell as ifstruck by lightning. 

"All the miseries together!" she said, as she fainted. 

Moreau took the poor mother in his arms, and carried her to the bed inher chamber. Oscar remained motionless, as if crushed. 

"There is nothing left for you, " said Moreau, coming back to him, "butto make yourself a soldier. That idiot of a Clapart looks to me asthough he couldn't live three months, and then your mother will bewithout a penny. Ought I not, therefore, to reserve for her the littlemoney I am able to give? It was impossible to tell you this beforeher. As a soldier, you'll eat plain bread and reflect on life such asit is to those who are born into it without fortune. "

"I may get a lucky number, " said Oscar. 

"Suppose you do, what then? Your mother has well fulfilled her dutytowards you. She gave you an education; she placed you on the rightroad, and secured you a career. You have left it. Now, what can youdo? Without money, nothing; as you know by this time. You are not aman who can begin a new career by taking off your coat and going towork in your shirt-sleeves with the tools of an artisan. Besides, yourmother loves you, and she would die to see you come to that. "

Oscar sat down and no longer restrained his tears, which flowedcopiously. At last he understood this language, so completelyunintelligible to him ever since his first fault. 

"Men without means ought to be perfect, " added Moreau, not suspectingthe profundity of that cruel sentence. 

"My fate will soon be decided, " said Oscar. "I draw my number the dayafter to-morrow. Between now and then I will decide upon my future. "

Moreau, deeply distressed in spite of his stern bearing, left thehousehold in the rue de la Cerisaie to its despair. 

Three days later Oscar drew the number twenty-seven. In the interestsof the poor lad the former steward of Presles had the courage to go tothe Comte de Serizy and ask for his influence to get Oscar into thecavalry. It happened that the count's son, having left the EcolePolytechnique rather low in his class, was appointed, as a favor, sub-lieutenant in a regiment of cavalry commanded by the Duc deMaufrigneuse. Oscar had, therefore, in his great misfortune, the smallluck of being, at the Comte de Serizy's instigation, drafted into thatnoble regiment, with the promise of promotion to quartermaster withina year. Chance had thus placed the ex-clerk under the command of theson of the Comte de Serizy. 

Madame Clapart, after languishing for some days, so keenly was sheaffected by these catastrophes, became a victim to the remorse whichseizes upon many a mother whose conduct has been frail in her youth, and who, in her old age, turns to repentance. She now consideredherself under a curse. She attributed the sorrows of her secondmarriage and the misfortunes of her son to a just retribution by whichGod was compelling her to expiate the errors and pleasures of heryouth. This opinion soon became a certainty in her mind. The poorwoman went, for the first time in forty years, to confess herself tothe Abbe Gaudron, vicar of Saint-Paul's, who led her into the practiceof devotion. But so ill-used and loving a soul as that of MadameClapart's could never be anything but simply pious. The Aspasia of theDirectory wanted to expiate her sins in order to draw down theblessing of God on the head of her poor Oscar, and she henceforthvowed herself to works and deeds of the purest piety. She believed shehad won the attention of heaven when she saved the life of MonsieurClapart, who, thanks to her devotion, lived on to torture her; but shechose to see, in the tyranny of that imbecile mind, a trial inflictedby the hand of one who loveth while he chasteneth. 

Oscar, meantime, behaved so well that in 1830 he was first sergeantof the company of the Vicomte de Serizy, which gave him the rank ofsub-lieutenant of the line. Oscar Husson was by that time twenty-fiveyears old. As the Royal Guard, to which his regiment was attached, wasalways in garrison in Paris, or within a circumference of thirty milesaround the capital, he came to see his mother from time to time, andtell her his griefs; for he had the sense to see that he could neverbecome an officer as matters then were. At that time the cavalrygrades were all being taken up by the younger sons of noble families, and men without the article to their names found promotion difficult. Oscar's sole ambition was to leave the Guards and be appointedsub-lieutenant in a regiment of the cavalry of the line. In the monthof February, 1830, Madame Clapart obtained this promotion for her sonthrough the influence of Madame la Dauphine, granted to the AbbeGaudron, now rector of Saint-Pauls. 

Although Oscar outwardly professed to be devoted to the Bourbons, inthe depths of his heart he was a liberal. Therefore, in the struggleof 1830, he went over to the side of the people. This desertion, whichhad an importance due to the crisis in which it took place, broughthim before the eyes of the public. During the excitement of triumph inthe month of August he was promoted lieutenant, received the cross ofthe Legion of honor, and was attached as aide-de-camp to La Fayette, who gave him the rank of captain in 1832. When the amateur of the bestof all possible republics was removed from the command of the Nationalguard, Oscar Husson, whose devotion to the new dynasty amounted tofanaticism, was appointed major of a regiment sent to Africa at thetime of the first expedition undertaken by the Prince-royal. TheVicomte de Serizy chanced to be the lieutenant-colonel of thisregiment. At the affair of the Makta, where the field had to beabandoned to the Arabs, Monsieur de Serizy was left wounded under adead horse. Oscar, discovering this, called out to the squadron:

"Messieurs, it is going to death, but we cannot abandon our colonel. "

He dashed upon the enemy, and his electrified soldiers followed him. The Arabs, in their first astonishment at this furious andunlooked-for return, allowed Oscar to seize the viscount, whom heflung across his horse, and carried off at full gallop, --receiving, as he did so, two slashes from yataghans on his left arm. 

Oscar's conduct on this occasion was rewarded with the officer's crossof the Legion of honor, and by his promotion to the rank oflieutenant-colonel. He took the most affectionate care of the Vicomtede Serizy, whose mother came to meet him on the arrival of theregiment at Toulon, where, as we know, the young man died of hiswounds. 

The Comtesse de Serizy had not separated her son from the man who hadshown him such devotion. Oscar himself was so seriously wounded thatthe surgeons whom the countess had brought with her from Paris thoughtbest to amputate his left arm. 

Thus the Comte de Serizy was led not only to forgive Oscar for hispainful remarks on the journey to Presles, but to feel himself hisdebtor on behalf of his son, now buried in the chapel of the chateaude Serizy. 

 CHAPTER XI

 OSCAR'S LAST BLUNDER

Some years after the affair at Makta, an old lady, dressed in black, leaning on the arm of a man about thirty-four years of age, in whomobservers would recognize a retired officer, from the loss of an armand the rosette of the Legion of honor in his button-hole, wasstanding, at eight o'clock, one morning in the month of May, under theporte-cochere of the Lion d'Argent, rue de Faubourg Saint-Denis, waiting, apparently, for the departure of a diligence. UndoubtedlyPierrotin, the master of the line of coaches running through thevalley of the Oise (despatching one through Saint-Leu-Taverny andIsle-Adam to Beaumont), would scarcely have recognized in this bronzedand maimed officer the little Oscar Husson he had formerly taken toPresles. Madame Husson, at last a widow, was as little recognizable asher son. Clapart, a victim of Fieschi's machine, had served his wifebetter by death than by all his previous life. The idle lounger washanging about, as usual, on the boulevard du Temple, gazing at theshow, when the explosion came. The poor widow was put upon the pensionlist, made expressly for the families of the victim, at fifteenhundred francs a year. 

The coach, to which were harnessed four iron-gray horses that wouldhave done honor to the Messageries-royales, was divided into threecompartments, coupe, interieur, and rotonde, with an imperiale above. It resembled those diligences called "Gondoles, " which now ply, inrivalry with the railroad, between Paris and Versailles. Both solidand light, well-painted and well-kept, lined with fine blue cloth, andfurnished with blinds of a Moorish pattern and cushions of redmorocco, the "Swallow of the Oise" could carry, comfortably, nineteenpassengers. Pierrotin, now about fifty-six years old, was littlechanged. Still dressed in a blue blouse, beneath which he wore a blacksuit, he smoked his pipe, and superintended the two porters in livery, who were stowing away the luggage in the great imperiale. 

"Are your places taken?" he said to Madame Clapart and Oscar, eyeingthem like a man who is trying to recall a likeness to his memory. 

"Yes, two places for the interieur in the name of my servant, Bellejambe, " replied Oscar; "he must have taken them last evening. "

"Ah! monsieur is the new collector of Beaumont, " said Pierrotin. "Youtake the place of Monsieur Margueron's nephew?"

"Yes, " replied Oscar, pressing the arm of his mother, who was about tospeak. 

The officer wished to remain unknown for a time. 

Just then Oscar thrilled at hearing the well-remembered voice ofGeorges Marest calling out from the street: "Pierrotin, have you oneseat left?"

"It seems to me you could say 'monsieur' without cracking yourthroat, " replied the master of the line of coaches of the Valley ofthe Oise, sharply. 

Unless by the sound of the voice, Oscar could never have recognizedthe individual whose jokes had been so fatal to him. Georges, almostbald, retained only three or four tufts of hair above his ears; butthese were elaborately frizzed out to conceal, as best they could, thenakedness of the skull. A fleshiness ill-placed, in other words, apear-shaped stomach, altered the once elegant proportions of theex-young man. Now almost ignoble in appearance and bearing, Georgesexhibited the traces of disasters in love and a life of debauchery inhis blotched skin and bloated, vinous features. The eyes had lost thebrilliancy, the vivacity of youth which chaste or studious habits havethe virtue to retain. Dressed like a man who is careless of hisclothes, Georges wore a pair of shabby trousers, with straps intendedfor varnished boots; but his were of leather, thick-soled, ill-blacked, and of many months' wear. A faded waistcoat, a cravat, pretentiouslytied, although the material was a worn-out foulard, bespoke the secretdistress to which a former dandy sometimes falls a prey. Moreover, Georges appeared at this hour of the morning in an evening coat, instead of a surtout; a sure diagnostic of actual poverty. This coat, which had seen long service at balls, had now, like its master, passedfrom the opulent ease of former times to daily work. The seams of theblack cloth showed whitening lines; the collar was greasy; long usagehad frayed the edges of the sleeves into fringes. 

And yet, Georges ventured to attract attention by yellow kid gloves, rather dirty, it is true, on the outside of which a signet ringdefined a large dark spot. Round his cravat, which was slipped into apretentious gold ring, was a chain of silk, representing hair, which, no doubt, held a watch. His hat, though worn rather jauntily, revealed, more than any of the above symptoms, the poverty of a manwho was totally unable to pay sixteen francs to a hat-maker, beingforced to live from hand to mouth. The former admirer of Florentinetwirled a cane with a chased gold knob, which was horribly battered. The blue trousers, the waistcoat of a material called "Scotch stuff, "a sky-blue cravat and a pink-striped cotton shirt, expressed, in themidst of all this ruin, such a latent desire to SHOW-OFF that thecontrast was not only a sight to see, but a lesson to be learned. 

"And that is Georges!" said Oscar, in his own mind, --"a man I left inpossession of thirty thousand francs a year!"

"Has Monsieur _de_ Pierrotin a place in the coupe?" asked Georges, ironically replying to Pierrotin's rebuff. 

"No; my coupe is taken by a peer of France, the son-in-law of MonsieurMoreau, Monsieur le Baron de Canalis, his wife, and his mother-in-law. I have nothing left but one place in the interieur. "

"The devil! so peers of France still travel in your coach, do they?"said Georges, remembering his adventure with the Comte de Serizy. "Well, I'll take that place in the interieur. "

He cast a glance of examination on Oscar and his mother, but did notrecognize them. 

Oscar's skin was now bronzed by the sun of Africa; his moustache wasvery thick and his whiskers ample; the hollows in his cheeks and hisstrongly marked features were in keeping with his military bearing. The rosette of an officer of the Legion of honor, his missing arm, thestrict propriety of his dress, would all have diverted Georgesrecollections of his former victim if he had had any. As for MadameClapart, whom Georges had scarcely seen, ten years devoted to theexercise of the most severe piety had transformed her. No one wouldever have imagined that that gray sister concealed the Aspasia of1797. 

An enormous old man, very simply dressed, though his clothes were goodand substantial, in whom Oscar recognized Pere Leger, here came slowlyand heavily along. He nodded familiarly to Pierrotin, who appeared byhis manner to pay him the respect due in all lands to millionaires. 

"Ha! ha! why, here's Pere Leger! more and more preponderant!" criedGeorges. 

"To whom have I the honor of speaking?" asked old Leger, curtly. 

"What! you don't recognize Colonel Georges, the friend of Ali pacha?We travelled together once upon a time, in company with the Comte deSerizy. "

One of the habitual follies of those who have fallen in the world isto recognize and desire the recognition of others. 

"You are much changed, " said the ex-farmer, now twice a millionaire. 

"All things change, " said Georges. "Look at the Lion d'Argent andPierrotin's coach; they are not a bit like what they were fourteenyears ago. "

"Pierrotin now controls the whole service of the Valley of the Oise, "replied Monsieur Leger, "and sends out five coaches. He is thebourgeois of Beaumont, where he keeps a hotel, at which all thediligences stop, and he has a wife and daughter who are not a bad helpto him. "

An old man of seventy here came out of the hotel and joined the groupof travellers who were waiting to get into the coach. 

"Come along, Papa Reybert, " said Leger, "we are only waiting now foryour great man. "

"Here he comes, " said the steward of Presles, pointing to JosephBridau. 

Neither Georges nor Oscar recognized the illustrious artist, for hisface had the worn and haggard lines that were now famous, and hisbearing was that which is given by success. The ribbon of the Legionof honor adorned his black coat, and the rest of his dress, which wasextremely elegant, seemed to denote an expedition to some rural fete. 

At this moment a clerk, with a paper in his hand, came out of theoffice (which was now in the former kitchen of the Lion d'Argent), andstood before the empty coupe. 

"Monsieur and Madame de Canalis, three places, " he said. Then, movingto the door of the interieur, he named, consecutively, "MonsieurBellejambe, two places; Monsieur de Reybert, three places; Monsieur--your name, if you please?" he said to Georges. 

"Georges Marest, " said the fallen man, in a low voice. 

The clerk then moved to the rotunde, before which were grouped anumber of nurses, country-people, and petty shopkeepers, who werebidding each other adieu. Then, after bundling in the six passengers, he called to four young men who mounted to the imperial; after whichhe cried: "Start!" Pierrotin got up beside his driver, a young man ina blouse, who called out: "Pull!" to his animals, and the vehicle, drawn by four horses brought at Roye, mounted the rise of the faubourgSaint-Denis at a slow trot. 

But no sooner had it got above Saint-Laurent than it raced like amail-cart to Saint-Denis, which it reached in forty minutes. No stopwas made at the cheese-cake inn, and the coach took the road throughthe valley of Montmorency. 

It was at the turn into this road that Georges broke the silence whichthe travellers had so far maintained while observing each other. 

"We go a little faster than we did fifteen years ago, hey, PereLeger?" he said, pulling out a silver watch. 

"Persons are usually good enough to call me Monsieur Leger, " said themillionaire. 

"Why, here's our blagueur of the famous journey to Presles, " criedJoseph Bridau. "Have you made any new campaigns in Asia, Africa, orAmerica?"

"Sacrebleu! I've made the revolution of July, and that's enough forme, for it ruined me. "

"Ah! you made the revolution of July!" cried the painter, laughing. "Well, I always said it never made itself. "

"How people meet again!" said Monsieur Leger, turning to Monsieur deReybert. "This, papa Reybert, is the clerk of the notary to whom youundoubtedly owe the stewardship of Presles. "

"We lack Mistigris, now famous under his own name of Leon de Lora, "said Joseph Bridau, "and the little young man who was stupid enough totalk to the count about those skin diseases which are now cured, andabout his wife, whom he has recently left that he may die in peace. "

"And the count himself, you lack him, " said old Reybert. 

"I'm afraid, " said Joseph Bridau, sadly, "that the last journey thecount will ever take will be from Presles to Isle-Adam, to be presentat my marriage. "

"He still drives about the park, " said Reybert. 

"Does his wife come to see him?" asked Leger. 

"Once a month, " replied Reybert. "She is never happy out of Paris. Last September she married her niece, Mademoiselle du Rouvre, on whom, since the death of her son, she spends all her affection, to a veryrich young Pole, the Comte Laginski. "

"To whom, " asked Madame Clapart, "will Monsieur de Serizy's propertygo?"

"To his wife, who will bury him, " replied Georges. "The countess isstill fine-looking for a woman of fifty-four years of age. She is veryelegant, and, at a little distance, gives one the illusion--"

"She will always be an illusion to you, " said Leger, who seemedinclined to revenge himself on his former hoaxer. 

"I respect her, " said Georges. "But, by the bye, what became of thatsteward whom the count turned off?"

"Moreau?" said Leger; "why, he's the deputy from the Oise. "

"Ha! the famous Centre man; Moreau de l'Oise?" cried Georges. 

"Yes, " returned Leger, "Moreau de l'Oise. He did more than you for therevolution of July, and he has since then bought the beautiful estateof Pointel, between Presles and Beaumont. "

"Next to the count's, " said Georges. "I call that very bad taste. "

"Don't speak so loud, " said Monsieur de Reybert, "for Madame Moreauand her daughter, the Baronne de Canalis, and the Baron himself, theformer minister, are in the coupe. "

"What 'dot' could he have given his daughter to induce our greatorator to marry her?" said Georges. 

"Something like two millions, " replied old Leger. 

"He always had a taste for millions, " remarked Georges. "He began hispile surreptitiously at Presles--"

"Say nothing against Monsieur Moreau, " cried Oscar, hastily. "Youought to have learned before now to hold your tongue in publicconveyances. "

Joseph Bridau looked at the one-armed officer for several seconds;then he said, smiling:--

"Monsieur is not an ambassador, but his rosette tells us he has madehis way nobly; my brother and General Giroudeau have repeatedly namedhim in their reports. "

"Oscar Husson!" cried Georges. "Faith! if it hadn't been for yourvoice I should never have known you. "

"Ah! it was monsieur who so bravely rescued the Vicomte Jules deSerizy from the Arabs?" said Reybert, "and for whom the count hasobtained the collectorship of Beaumont while awaiting that ofPontoise?"

"Yes, monsieur, " said Oscar. 

"I hope you will give me the pleasure, monsieur, " said the greatpainter, "of being present at my marriage at Isle-Adam. "

"Whom do you marry?" asked Oscar, after accepting the invitation. 

"Mademoiselle Leger, " replied Joseph Bridau, "the granddaughter ofMonsieur de Reybert. Monsieur le comte was kind enough to arrange themarriage for me. As an artist I owe him a great deal, and he wished, before his death, to secure my future, about which I did not think, myself. "

"Whom did Pere Leger marry?" asked Georges. 

"My daughter, " replied Monsieur de Reybert, "and without a 'dot. '"

"Ah!" said Georges, assuming a more respectful manner toward MonsieurLeger, "I am fortunate in having chosen this particular day to do thevalley of the Oise. You can all be useful to me, gentlemen. "

"How so?" asked Monsieur Leger. 

"In this way, " replied Georges. "I am employed by the 'Esperance, ' acompany just formed, the statutes of which have been approved by anordinance of the King. This institution gives, at the end of tenyears, dowries to young girls, annuities to old men; it pays theeducation of children, and takes charge, in short, of the fortunes ofeverybody. "

"I can well believe it, " said Pere Leger, smiling. "In a word, you area runner for an insurance company. "

"No, monsieur. I am the inspector-general; charged with the duty ofestablishing correspondents and appointing the agents of the companythroughout France. I am only operating until the agents are selected;for it is a matter as delicate as it is difficult to find honestagents. "

"But how did you lose your thirty thousand a year?" asked Oscar. 

"As you lost your arm, " replied the son of Czerni-Georges, curtly. 

"Then you must have shared in some brilliant action, " remarked Oscar, with a sarcasm not unmixed with bitterness. 

"Parbleu! I've too many--shares! that's just what I wanted to sell. "

By this time they had arrived at Saint-Leu-Taverny, where all thepassengers got out while the coach changed horses. Oscar admired theliveliness which Pierrotin displayed in unhooking the traces from thewhiffle-trees, while his driver cleared the reins from the leaders. 

"Poor Pierrotin, " thought he; "he has stuck like me, --not far advancedin the world. Georges has fallen low. All the others, thanks tospeculation and to talent, have made their fortune. Do we breakfasthere, Pierrotin?" he said, aloud, slapping that worthy on theshoulder. 

"I am not the driver, " said Pierrotin. 

"What are you, then?" asked Colonel Husson. 

"The proprietor, " replied Pierrotin. 

"Come, don't be vexed with an old acquaintance, " said Oscar, motioningto his mother, but still retaining his patronizing manner. "Don't yourecognize Madame Clapart?"

It was all the nobler of Oscar to present his mother to Pierrotin, because, at that moment, Madame Moreau de l'Oise, getting out of thecoupe, overheard the name, and stared disdainfully at Oscar and hismother. 

"My faith! madame, " said Pierrotin, "I should never have known you;nor you, either, monsieur; the sun burns black in Africa, doesn't it?"

The species of pity which Oscar thus felt for Pierrotin was the lastblunder that vanity ever led our hero to commit, and, like his otherfaults, it was punished, but very gently, thus:--

Two months after his official installation at Beaumont-sur-Oise, Oscarwas paying his addresses to Mademoiselle Georgette Pierrotin, whose'dot' amounted to one hundred and fifty thousand francs, and hemarried the pretty daughter of the proprietor of the stage-coaches ofthe Oise, toward the close of the winter of 1838. 

The adventure of the journey to Presles was a lesson to Oscar Hussonin discretion; his disaster at Florentine's card-party strengthenedhim in honesty and uprightness; the hardships of his military careertaught him to understand the social hierarchy and to yield obedienceto his lot. Becoming wise and capable, he was happy. The Comte deSerizy, before his death, obtained for him the collectorship atPontoise. The influence of Monsieur Moreau de l'Oise and that of theComtesse de Serizy and the Baron de Canalis secured, in after years, areceiver-generalship for Monsieur Husson, in whom the Camusot familynow recognize a relation. 

Oscar is a commonplace man, gentle, without assumption, modest, andalways keeping, like his government, to a middle course. He excitesneither envy nor contempt. In short, he is the modern bourgeois. 

ADDENDUM

The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. 

Beaupre, Fanny Modest Mignon The Muse of the Department Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Bridau, Joseph The Purse A Bachelor's Establishment A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Modeste Mignon Another Study of Woman Pierre Grassou Letters of Two Brides Cousin Betty The Member for Arcis

Bruel, Jean Francois du A Bachelor's Establishment The Government Clerks A Prince of Bohemia The Middle Classes A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Daughter of Eve

Cabirolle, Madame A Bachelor's Establishment

Cabirolle, Agathe-Florentine Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Bachelor's Establishment

Canalis, Constant-Cyr-Melchior, Baron de Letters of Two Brides A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Modeste Mignon The Magic Skin Another Study of Woman Beatrix The Unconscious Humorists The Member for Arcis

Cardot, Jean-Jerome-Severin Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Bachelor's Establishment At the Sign of the Cat and Racket Cesar Birotteau

Coralie, Mademoiselle A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Bachelor's Establishment

Crottat, Alexandre Cesar Birotteau Colonel Chabert A Woman of Thirty Cousin Pons

Derville Gobseck The Gondreville Mystery Father Goriot Colonel Chabert Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Desroches (son) A Bachelor's Establishment Colonel Chabert A Woman of Thirty The Commission in Lunacy The Government Clerks A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Firm of Nucingen A Man of Business The Middle Classes

Finot, Andoche Cesar Birotteau A Bachelor's Establishment A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Government Clerks Gaudissart the Great The Firm of Nucingen

Gaudron, Abbe The Government Clerks Honorine

Giroudeau A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Bachelor's Establishment

Godeschal, Francois-Claude-Marie Colonel Chabert A Bachelor's Establishment The Commission in Lunacy The Middle Classes Cousin Pons

Godeschal, Marie A Bachelor's Establishment Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Cousin Pons

Gondreville, Malin, Comte de The Gondreville Mystery Domestic Peace The Member for Arcis

Grevin The Gondreville Mystery The Member for Arcis

Grindot Cesar Birotteau Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Beatrix The Middle Classes Cousin Betty

Lora, Leon de The Unconscious Humorists A Bachelor's Establishment Pierre Grassou Honorine Cousin Betty Beatrix

Loraux, Abbe A Bachelor's Establishment Cesar Birotteau Honorine

Lupin, Amaury The Peasantry

Marest, Frederic The Seamy Side of History The Member for Arcis

Marest, Georges The Peasantry

Maufrigneuse, Duc de The Secrets of a Princess A Bachelor's Establishment Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Poiret, the elder The Government Clerks Father Goriot Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Middle Classes

Rouvre, Marquis du The Imaginary Mistress Ursule Mirouet

Schinner, Hippolyte The Purse A Bachelor's Establishment Pierre Grassou Albert Savarus The Government Clerks Modeste Mignon The Imaginary Mistress The Unconscious Humorists

Serizy, Comte Hugret de A Bachelor's Establishment Honorine Modeste Mignon Scenes from a Courtesan's Life

Serizy, Comtesse de The Thirteen Ursule Mirouet A Woman of Thirty Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Another Study of Woman The Imaginary Mistress

Serizy, Vicomte de Modeste Mignon The Imaginary Mistress

Vandenesse, Marquis Charles de A Woman of Thirty A Daughter of Eve

Vandenesse, Comte Felix de The Lily of the Valley Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Cesar Birotteau Letters of Two Brides The Marriage Settlement The Secrets of a Princess Another Study of Woman The Gondreville Mystery A Daughter of Eve