was very dreary, for
he saw through eyes dim with tears, and the child was about to lose his
mother.

CHAPTER VII.~~MADOU'S FLIGHT.

Some time after this a letter arrived at the academy from D'Argenton.

The poet wrote to announce that the death of a relative had so changed
the position of his private affairs that he must offer his resignation
as Professor of Literature. In a somewhat abrupt postscript he added
that Madame de Barancy was obliged to leave Paris for an indefinite
time, and that she confided her little Jack to M. Moronval's paternal
care. In case of illness or accident to the child, a letter could be
forwarded to the mother under cover to D'Argenton.

"The paternal care of Moronval!" Had the poet laughed aloud as he penned
these words? Did he not know perfectly well the child's fate at the
academy as soon as it was understood that his mother had left Paris, and
that nothing more was to be expected from her?

The arrival of this letter threw Moronval into a terrible fit of rage,
which rage shook the equilibrium of the academy as a violent tornado
might have done in the tropics.

The countess gone! and gone too, apparently, with that brainless fellow,
who had neither wit nor imagination. Was it not shameful that a woman of
her years--for she was by no means in her earliest youth--should be so
heartless as to leave her child alone in Paris, among strangers.

But even while he pitied Jack, Moronval said to himself, "Wait a while,
young man, and I will show you how paternally I shall manage you."

But if he was enraged when he thought of the Review, his cherished
project, he was more indignant that D'Argenton and Ida should have made
use of him and his house to advance their own plans. He hurried off to
the Boulevard Haussmann to learn all he could; but the mystery was no
nearer elucidation.

Constant was expecting a letter from her mistress, and knew only that
she had broken entirely with all past relations; that the house was to
be given up, and the furniture sold.

"Ah! sir," said Constant, mournfully, "it was an unfortunate day for us
when we set foot in your old barracks!"

The preceptor returned home convinced that at the termination of
the next quarter Jack would be withdrawn from the school. Deciding,
therefore, that the child was no longer a mine of wealth, he determined
to put an end to all the indulgences with which he had been treated.
Poor Jack after this day sat at the table no