man took his departure, for his
ugliness, the shabbiness of his dress, and his general aspect of dirt,
drove away all the feelings of gratitude she ought to have evinced, and
inspired in her loathing and repugnance; and she fancied that his eyes,
though veiled by his colored glasses, could detect the minutest secrets
of her heart; but still this did not prevent her putting on a sweet
smile and entreating him to remain.

But Daddy Tantaine was resolute; and after impressing upon Paul the
necessity of punctuality, he went away, repeating, as he passed through
the door, "May good appetite be present at your little feast, my dears."

As soon, however, as the door was closed he bent down and listened. The
young people were as merry as larks, and their laughter filled the
bare attic of the Hotel de Perou. Why should not Paul have been in good
spirits? He had in his pocket the address of the man who was to make his
fortune, and on the chimney-piece was the balance of the banknote, which
seemed to him an inexhaustible sum. Rose, too, was delighted, and could
not refrain from jeering at their benefactor, whom she stigmatized as
"an old idiot."

"Laugh while you can, my dears!" muttered Daddy Tantaine; "for this may
be the last time you will do so."

With these words he crept down the dark staircase, which was only
lighted up on Sundays, owing to the high price of gas, and, peeping
through the glass door of the porter's lodge, saw Madame Loupins engaged
in cooking; and, with the timid knock of a man who has learned his
lesson in poverty's grammar, he entered.

"Here is my rent, madame," said he, placing on the table ten francs
and twenty centimes. Then, as the woman was scribbling a receipt, he
launched into a statement of his own affairs, and told her that he had
come into a little property which would enable him to live in comfort
during his few remaining years on earth; and--evidently fearing that
his well-known poverty might cause Madame Loupins to discredit his
assertions--drew out his pocketbook and exhibited several banknotes.
This exhibition of wealth so surprised the landlady, that when the old
man left she insisted on lighting him to the door. He turned eastward as
soon as he had left the house, and, glancing at the names of the shops,
entered a grocer's establishment at the corner of the Rue de Petit Pont.
This grocer, thanks to a certain cheap wine, manufactured for him by a
chemist at Bercy, had achieved a certa