cold, silent, and reserved in manner like a Swiss, and neat as
an Englishman, had acquired by intercourse with his father all the
qualities necessary for his difficult profession. Better educated than
the generality of bankers, his studies had the breadth and universality
which characterize the polytechnic training; and he had, like most
bankers, predilections and tastes outside of his business,--he loved
mechanics and chemistry. The second brother, who was ten years younger
than Frederic, held the same position in the office of his elder brother
that a head clerk holds in that of a notary or lawyer. Frederic trained
him, as he had himself been trained by his father, in the variety of
knowledge necessary to a true banker, who is to money what a writer is
to ideas,--they must both know all of that with which they have to deal.

When Godefroid reached the banking house and gave his name, he saw
at once the estimation in which his father had been held; for he was
ushered through the offices without delay to the private counting-room
of the Mongenods. This counting-room was closed with a glass door, so
that Godefroid, without any desire to listen, overheard as he approached
it what was being said there.

"Madame, your account is balanced to sixteen hundred thousand francs,"
said the younger Mongenod. "I do not know what my brother's intentions
are; he alone can say whether an advance of a hundred thousand francs
can be made. You must have been imprudent. Sixteen hundred thousand
francs should not be entrusted to any business."

"Do not speak so loud, Louis!" said a woman's voice. "Your brother has
often told you to speak in a low voice. There may be some one in the
next room."

At this moment Frederic Mongenod himself opened the door of
communication between his private house and the counting-room. He saw
Godefroid and crossed the room, bowing respectfully to the lady who was
conversing with his brother.

"To whom have I the honor of speaking?" he said to Godefroid.

As soon as Godefroid gave his name, Frederic begged him to be seated;
and as the banker opened the lid of his desk, Louis Mongenod and the
lady, who was no other than Madame de la Chanterie, rose and went up to
him. All three then moved into the embrasure of a window and talked in
a low voice with Madame Mongenod, the mother, who was sitting there, and
to whom all the affairs of the bank were confided. For over thirty years
this woman had given, to her hu