ur family has
shown to mine. From to-day, if you consent, I take you into my house.
You are educated, you seem intelligent, you can be of great service
to me. I have a thousand plans, a thousand affairs in hand. I am being
drawn into a crowd of large industrial enterprises. I want some one who
will aid me; represent me at need. I have indeed a secretary, a steward,
that excellent Bompain, but the unfortunate fellow knows nothing of
Paris; he has been, as it were, bewildered ever since his arrival. You
will tell me that you also come straight from the country, but that
does not matter. Well brought up as you are, a southerner, alert and
adaptable, you will quickly pick up the routine of the Boulevard. For
the rest, I myself undertake your education from that point of view. In
a few weeks you will find yourself, I answer for it, as much at home in
Paris as I am."

Poor man! It was touching to hear him speak of his Parisian habits, and
of his experience; he whose destiny it was to be always a beginner.

"Now, that is understood, is it not? I engage you as secretary. You will
have a fixed salary which we will settle directly, and I shall provide
you with the opportunity to make your fortune rapidly."

And while de Gery, raised suddenly above all the anxieties of a
newcomer, of one who solicits a favour, of a neophyte, did not move for
fear of awaking from a dream:

"Now," said the Nabob to him in a gentle voice, "sit down there, next
me, and let us talk a little about mamma."

MEMOIRS OF AN OFFICE PORTER A MERE GLANCE AT THE TERRITORIAL BANK

I had just finished my frugal morning repast and, as my habit was,
placed the remains of my modest provisions in the board-room safe with a
secret lock, which has served me as a store-cupboard during four years,
almost, that I have been at the Territorial. Suddenly the governor walks
into the offices, with his face all red and eyes inflamed, as though
after a night's feasting, draws in his breath noisily, and in rude terms
says to me, with his Italian accent:

"But this place stinks, _Moussiou_ Passajon."

The place did not stink, if you like the word. Only--shall I say
it?--I had ordered a few onions to garnish a knuckle of veal which Mme.
Seraphine had sent down to me, she being the cook on the second floor,
whose accounts I write out for her every evening. I tried to explain the
matter to the governor, but he had flown into a temper, saying that to
his mind there was