In Paris he led a low,
idle life; he was one of those students who enter their names at the
taverns of the Quartier Latin. He did not remain there, however, more
than two years; his father, growing apprehensive, and seeing that he had
not yet passed a single examination, kept him at Plassans and spoke of
finding a wife for him, hoping that domestic responsibility would make
him more steady. Aristide let himself be married. He had no very
clear idea of his own ambitions at this time; provincial life did not
displease him; he was battening in his little town--eating, sleeping,
and sauntering about. Felicite pleaded his cause so earnestly that
Pierre consented to board and lodge the newly-married couple, on
condition that the young man should turn his attention to the business.
From that time, however, Aristide led a life of ease and idleness. He
spent his days and the best part of his nights at the club, again and
again slipping out of his father's office like a schoolboy to go and
gamble away the few louis that his mother gave him clandestinely.

It is necessary to have lived in the depths of the French provinces to
form an idea of the four brutifying years which the young fellow spent
in this fashion. In every little town there is a group of individuals
who thus live on their parents, pretending at times to work, but in
reality cultivating idleness with a sort of religious zeal. Aristide was
typical of these incorrigible drones. For four years he did little
but play ecarte. While he passed his time at the club, his wife, a
fair-complexioned nerveless woman, helped to ruin the Rougon business
by her inordinate passion for showy gowns and her formidable appetite,
a rather remarkable peculiarity in so frail a creature. Angele, however,
adored sky-blue ribbons and roast beef. She was the daughter of a
retired captain who was called Commander Sicardot, a good-hearted old
gentleman, who had given her a dowry of ten thousand francs--all his
savings. Pierre, in selecting Angele for his son had considered that
he had made an unexpected bargain, so lightly did he esteem Aristide.
However, that dowry of ten thousand francs, which determined his choice,
ultimately became a millstone round his neck. His son, who was already
a cunning rogue, deposited the ten thousand francs with his father,
with whom he entered into partnership, declining, with the most sincere
professions of devotion, to keep a single copper.

"We have no need of