supper
at the Cognettes', on the probable success of the performance, and
laughing over the general mourning that would follow this novel massacre
of the innocents,--revelling, moreover, in the apprehensions it would
excite as to the sinister object of depriving all the households of
their guardian watch-dogs.

"It will make people forget Fario's cart," said Goddet.

Fario did not need that speech to confirm his suspicions; besides, his
mind was already made up.

After three weeks' stay in Issoudun, Agathe was convinced, and so was
Madame Hochon, of the truth of the old miser's observation, that it
would take years to destroy the influence which Max and the
Rabouilleuse had acquired over her brother. She had made no progress in
Jean-Jacques's confidence, and she was never left alone with him. On
the other hand, Mademoiselle Brazier triumphed openly over the heirs by
taking Agathe to drive in the caleche, sitting beside her on the back
seat, while Monsieur Rouget and his nephew occupied the front. Mother
and son impatiently awaited an answer to the confidential letter they
had written to Desroches. The day before the night on which the dogs
were to be poisoned, Joseph, who was nearly bored to death in Issoudun,
received two letters: the first from the great painter Schinner,--whose
age allowed him a closer intimacy than Joseph could have with Gros,
their master,--and the second from Desroches.

Here is the first, postmarked Beaumont-sur-Oise:--

My dear Joseph,--I have just finished the principal
panel-paintings at the chateau de Presles for the Comte de Serizy.
I have left all the mouldings and the decorative painting; and I
have recommended you so strongly to the count, and also to Gridot
the architect, that you have nothing to do but pick up your
brushes and come at once. Prices are arranged to please you. I am
off to Italy with my wife; so you can have Mistigris to help you
along. The young scamp has talent, and I put him at your disposal.
He is twittering like a sparrow at the very idea of amusing
himself at the chateau de Presles.

Adieu, my dear Joseph; if I am still absent, and should send
nothing to next year's Salon, you must take my place. Yes, dear
Jojo, I know your picture is a masterpiece, but a masterpiece
which will rouse a hue and cry about romanticism; you are doomed
to lead the life of a devil in holy water. Adieu.

Thy friend,

Schinner

Here follows t