with such celerity that the moment for the head clerk's
history came in no time. In order that they might not be surprised by
their employer, they sent Hop-the-Gutter into the adjoining room as a
sentinel, having liberally supplied him with the carcass and drumsticks
of the bird.

The head clerk then said to his colleagues, "You must know, in the first
place, the porter has been very uneasy, for he has frequently seen M.
Ferrand, in spite of the cold and rain, pace the garden at night for a
considerable time. Once he ventured to ask his master if he wanted
anything; but he sent him about his business in such a manner that he
has not again ventured to intrude himself."

"Perhaps the governor is a sleep-walker?"

"That is not probable. But, to continue; a short time since I wanted his
signature to several papers. As I was turning the handle of his door, I
thought I heard some one speaking. I stopped, and made out two or three
repressed sounds, like stifled groans. After pausing an instant in fear,
I opened the door, and saw the governor kneeling on the floor, his
forehead buried in his hands, and his elbows resting on the seat of one
of his old armchairs."

"Oh, it's all plain enough: he has turned pious, and was saying an extra
prayer."

"Well, then, it was a strong prayer enough. I heard stifled groans, and
every now and then he murmured between his teeth '_Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!
mon Dieu!_' like a despairing man. Then,--and this is very singular,--in
a movement which he made as if to tear his breast with his nails, his
shirt came partly open, and I saw on his hairy chest a small red
pocketbook fastened around his neck by a steel chain. When I saw that I
did not really know whether I ought to retreat or advance. I remained,
however, very much embarrassed, when he rose and suddenly turned around,
holding between his teeth an old check pocket-handkerchief; his
spectacles were left on the chair. Let me say, gents, that I never in my
life saw such a figure; he looked like one of the damned. I retreated
really in alarm. Then he--"

"Seized you by the throat?"

"You are quite wrong. He looked at me first with a bewildered air; then
letting fall his handkerchief, he threw himself into my arms,
exclaiming, 'Oh, I am very unhappy!'"

"What a farce!"

"Well, but that did not prevent his voice--in spite of his death's-head
look--from being so distressing, I may say so imploring--"

"Imploring! Come, come, no gammon! Why,