forbearance. Since this morning I have been making
superhuman efforts to restrain myself, but it would take very little now
to make my anger burst all bonds, and woe to the man on whom it falls! I
am quite capable of killing some one. Come! Be off at once!--"

There was such an intonation in his son-in-law's voice, and the way that
son-in-law shook him as he spoke was so eloquent, that Monsieur Chebe
was fully convinced. He even stammered an apology. Certainly Risler had
good reason for acting as he had. All honorable people would be on his
side. And he backed toward the door as he spoke. When he reached it, he
inquired timidly if Madame Chebe's little allowance would be continued.

"Yes," was Risler's reply, "but never go beyond it, for my position here
is not what it was. I am no longer a partner in the house."

Monsieur Chebe stared at him in amazement, and assumed the idiotic
expression which led many people to believe that the accident that had
happened to him--exactly like that of the Duc d'Orleans, you know--was
not a fable of his own invention; but he dared not make the slightest
observation. Surely some one had changed his son-in-law. Was this really
Risler, this tiger-cat, who bristled up at the slightest word and talked
of nothing less than killing people?

He took to his heels, recovered his self-possession at the foot of the
stairs, and walked across the courtyard with the air of a conqueror.

When all the rooms were cleared and empty, Risler walked through them
for the last time, then took the key and went down to Planus's office to
hand it to Madame Georges.

"You can let the apartment," he said, "it will be so much added to the
income of the factory."

"But you, my friend?"

"Oh! I don't need much. An iron bed up under the eaves. That's all a
clerk needs. For, I repeat, I am nothing but a clerk from this time on.
A useful clerk, by the way, faithful and courageous, of whom you will
have no occasion to complain, I promise you."

Georges, who was going over the books with Planus, was so affected
at hearing the poor fellow talk in that strain that he left his seat
precipitately. He was suffocated by his sobs. Claire, too, was deeply
moved; she went to the new clerk of the house of Fromont and said to
him:

"Risler, I thank you in my father's name."

At that moment Pere Achille appeared with the mail.

Risler took the pile of letters, opened them tranquilly one by one, and
passed them over to S