rtois' house; he was worn out with misery and fatigue. Oh! he is
very much to be pitied."

Petit-Claud took the tall Cointet by the arm, saying aloud, "If we are
going to dine with Mme. de Senonches, it is time to dress." When they
had come away a few paces, he added, for his companion's benefit, "Catch
the cub, and you will soon have the dam; we have David now----"

"I have found you a wife, find me a partner," said the tall Cointet with
a treacherous smile.

"Lucien is an old school-fellow of mine; we used to be chums. I shall be
sure to hear something from him in a week's time. Have the banns put
up, and I will engage to put David in prison. When he is on the jailer's
register I shall have done my part."

"Ah!" exclaimed the tall Cointet under his breath, "we might have the
patent taken out in our name; that would be the thing!"

A shiver ran through the meagre little attorney when he heard those
words.

Meanwhile Eve beheld her father-in-law enter with the Abbe Marron, who
had let fall a word which unfolded the whole tragedy.

"Here is our cure, Mme. Sechard," the old man said, addressing his
daughter-in-law, "and pretty tales about your brother he has to tell us,
no doubt!"

"Oh!" cried poor Eve, cut to the heart; "what can have happened now?"

The cry told so unmistakably of many sorrows, of great dread on so many
grounds, that the Abbe Marron made haste to say, "Reassure yourself,
madame; he is living."

Eve turned to the vinegrower.

"Father," she said, "perhaps you will be good enough to go to my mother;
she must hear all that this gentleman has to tell us of Lucien."

The old man went in search of Mme. Chardon, and addressed her in this
wise:

"Go and have it out with the Abbe Marron; he is a good sort, priest
though he is. Dinner will be late, no doubt. I shall come back again in
an hour," and the old man went out. Insensible as he was to everything
but the clink of money and the glitter of gold, he left Mme. Chardon
without caring to notice the effect of the shock that he had given her.

Mme. Chardon had changed so greatly during the last eighteen months,
that in that short time she no longer looked like the same woman. The
troubles hanging over both of her children, her abortive hopes for
Lucien, the unexpected deterioration in one in whose powers and honesty
she had for so long believed,--all these things had told heavily upon
her. Mme. Chardon was not only noble by birth, she was noble by