in doing so because no one was ever less fussy or less
fault-finding than he. The apartment, furnished by the late Madame
Cardot, had remained in the same condition for the last six years,--the
old man being perfectly contented with it. He spent in all not more than
three thousand francs a year there; for he dined in Paris five days
in the week, and returned home at midnight in a hackney-coach, which
belonged to an establishment at Courtille. The cook had only her
master's breakfast to provide on those days. This was served at eleven
o'clock; after that he dressed and perfumed himself, and departed for
Paris. Usually, a bourgeois gives notice in the household if he dines
out; old Cardot, on the contrary, gave notice when he dined at home.

This little old man--fat, rosy, squat, and strong--always looked, in
popular speech, as if he had stepped from a bandbox. He appeared in
black silk stockings, breeches of "pou-de-soie" (paduasoy), a white
pique waistcoat, dazzling shirt-front, a blue-bottle coat, violet silk
gloves, gold buckles to his shoes and his breeches, and, lastly, a
touch of powder and a little queue tied with black ribbon. His face
was remarkable for a pair of eyebrows as thick as bushes, beneath which
sparkled his gray eyes; and for a square nose, thick and long, which
gave him somewhat the air of the abbes of former times. His countenance
did not belie him. Pere Cardot belonged to that race of lively Gerontes
which is now disappearing rapidly, though it once served as Turcarets
to the comedies and tales of the eighteenth century. Uncle Cardot always
said "Fair lady," and he placed in their carriages, and otherwise paid
attention to those women whom he saw without protectors; he "placed
himself at their disposition," as he said, in his chivalrous way.

But beneath his calm air and his snowy poll he concealed an old age
almost wholly given up to mere pleasure. Among men he openly professed
epicureanism, and gave himself the license of free talk. He had seen
no harm in the devotion of his son-in-law, Camusot, to Mademoiselle
Coralie, for he himself was secretly the Mecaenas of Mademoiselle
Florentine, the first danseuse at the Gaiete. But this life and these
opinions never appeared in his own home, nor in his external conduct
before the world. Uncle Cardot, grave and polite, was thought to be
somewhat cold, so much did he affect decorum; a "devote" would have
called him a hypocrite.

The worthy old gentleman