ing he considers treachery."

Joseph rose to return to his studio, but his mother took his hand and
said:--

"Be good to your brother; he is so unfortunate."

When the artist got back to his painting-room, followed by Madame
Descoings, who begged him to humor his mother's feelings, and pointed
out to him how changed she was, and what inward suffering the change
revealed, they found Philippe there, to their great amazement.

"Joseph, my boy," he said, in an off-hand way, "I want some money.
Confound it! I owe thirty francs for cigars at my tobacconist's, and I
dare not pass the cursed shop till I've paid it. I've promised to pay it
a dozen times."

"Well, I like your present way best," said Joseph; "take what you want
out of the skull."

"I took all there was last night, after dinner."

"There was forty-five francs."

"Yes, that's what I made it," replied Philippe. "I took them; is there
any objection?"

"No, my friend, no," said Joseph. "If you were rich, I should do the
same by you; only, before taking what I wanted, I should ask you if it
were convenient."

"It is very humiliating to ask," remarked Philippe; "I would rather see
you taking as I do, without a word; it shows more confidence. In the
army, if a comrade dies, and has a good pair of boots, and you have a
bad pair, you change, that's all."

"Yes, but you don't take them while he is living."

"Oh, what meanness!" said Philippe, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, so
you haven't got any money?"

"No," said Joseph, who was determined not to show his hiding-place.

"In a few days we shall be rich," said Madame Descoings.

"Yes, you; you think your trey is going to turn up on the 25th at the
Paris drawing. You must have put in a fine stake if you think you can
make us all rich."

"A paid-up trey of two hundred francs will give three millions, without
counting the couplets and the singles."

"At fifteen thousand times the stake--yes, you are right; it is just two
hundred you must pay up!" cried Philippe.

Madame Descoings bit her lips; she knew she had spoken imprudently. In
fact, Philippe was asking himself as he went downstairs:--

"That old witch! where does she keep her money? It is as good as lost;
I can make a better use of it. With four pools at fifty francs each, I
could win two hundred thousand francs, and that's much surer than the
turning up of a trey."

He tried to think where the old woman was likely to have hid the money.
On the