ce; he wore knee-breeches, ample
enough to fill several chapters of dissertation in the manner of Sterne,
ribbed stockings, shoes with silver clasps, an ecclesiastical-looking
coat and a high waistcoat of scholastic cut.)

"Chesnel, my boy, it was very presumptuous of you to lend money to the
Comte d'Esgrignon! If I repaid you at once and we never saw each other
again, it would be no more than you deserve for giving wings to his
vices."

There was a pause, a silence such as there falls at court when the
King publicly reprimands a courtier. The old notary looked humble and
contrite.

"I am anxious about that boy, Chesnel," continued the Marquis in a
kindly tone; "I should like to send him to Paris to serve His Majesty.
Make arrangements with my sister for his suitable appearance at
court.--And we will settle accounts----"

The Marquis looked grave as he left the room with a friendly gesture of
farewell to Chesnel.

"I thank M. le Marquis for all his goodness," returned the old man, who
still remained standing.

Mlle. Armande rose to go to the door with her brother; she had rung the
bell, old Josephin was in readiness to light his master to his room.

"Take a seat, Chesnel," said the lady, as she returned, and with womanly
tact she explained away and softened the Marquis' harshness. And yet
beneath that harshness Chesnel saw a great affection. The Marquis'
attachment for his old servant was something of the same order as a
man's affection for his dog; he will fight any one who kicks the animal,
the dog is like a part of his existence, a something which, if
not exactly himself, represents him in that which is nearest and
dearest--his sensibilities.

"It is quite time that M. le Comte should be sent away from the town,
mademoiselle," he said sententiously.

"Yes," returned she. "Has he been indulging in some new escapade?"

"No, mademoiselle."

"Well, why do you blame him?"

"I am not blaming him, mademoiselle. No, I am not blaming him. I am
very far from blaming him. I will even say that I shall never blame him,
whatever he may do."

There was a pause. The Chevalier, nothing if not quick to take in a
situation, began to yawn like a sleep-ridden mortal. Gracefully he made
his excuses and went, with as little mind to sleep as to go and drown
himself. The imp Curiosity kept the Chevalier wide awake, and with airy
fingers plucked away the cotton wool from his ears.

"Well, Chesnel, is it something new?" Mlle