stuffed the
bread and chocolate into his pocket. The scene had two witnesses,--two
young men a few years older than Oscar, better dressed than he,
without a mother hanging on to them, whose actions, dress, and ways all
betokened that complete independence which is the one desire of a lad
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 wish to
show to those around them her tenderness for the boy.

"What is the matter with you, Oscar?" asked the poor hurt woman. "I
don't know what to make of you," she added in a severe tone, fancying
herself able to inspire him with respect,--a great mistake made by those
who spoil their children. "Listen, my Oscar," she said, resuming at once
her tender voice, "you have a propensity to talk, and to tell all 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 keep your
tongue in check. You are not sufficiently advanced in life, my treasure,
to be able to judge of the persons with whom you may be thrown; and
there is nothing more dangerous than to talk in public conveyances.
Besides, in a diligence well-bred persons always keep silence."

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

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

The lad must have touched some tender spot, for his mother caught him
to 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 linen enough;
don't send any to the wash. And above all, remember Monsieur Moreau's
kindness; mind him as you would a father, and follow his advice."

As he got into the coach,