r
hesitated. Was it not practically giving the whole management of the
property into the hands of a stranger, some unknown girl? The doctor
knew how difficult it was to gain true indications of the moral
character of a woman from any study of a young girl. So, while he
continued to search for a daughter-in-law whose sentiments and education
offered some guarantees for the future, he endeavored to push his
son into the ways of avarice; meaning to give the poor fool a sort of
instinct that might eventually take the place of intelligence.

He trained him, in the first place, to mechanical habits of life; and
instilled into him fixed ideas as to the investment of his revenues: and
he spared him the chief difficulties of the management of a fortune,
by leaving his estates all in good order, and leased for long periods.
Nevertheless, a fact which was destined to be of paramount importance in
the life of the poor creature escaped the notice of the wily old doctor.
Timidity is a good deal like dissimulation, and is equally secretive.
Jean-Jacques was passionately in love with the Rabouilleuse. Nothing, of
course, could be more natural. Flore was the only woman who lived in the
bachelor's presence, the only one he could see at his ease; and at all
hours he secretly contemplated her and watched her. To him, she was the
light of his paternal home; she gave him, unknown to herself, the only
pleasures that brightened his youth. Far from being jealous of his
father, he rejoiced in the education the old man was giving to Flore:
would it not make her all he wanted, a woman easy to win, and to whom,
therefore, he need pay no court? The passion, observe, which is able
to reflect, gives even to ninnies, fools, and imbeciles a species of
intelligence, especially in youth. In the lowest human creature we find
an animal instinct whose persistency resembles thought.

The next day, Flore, who had been reflecting on her master's silence,
waited in expectation of some momentous communication; but although he
kept near her, and looked at her on the sly with passionate glances,
Jean-Jacques still found nothing to say. At last, when the dessert was
on the table, he recommenced the scene of the night before.

"You like your life here?" he said to Flore.

"Yes, Monsieur Jean."

"Well, stay here then."

"Thank you, Monsieur Jean."

This strange situation lasted three weeks. One night, when no sound
broke the stillness of the house, Flore, who