future associate. I must acknowledge that
she received him with a certain reserve, but when she had examined the
aspirant for this distinction, and learned that the two men had known
each other for ten years, and that she had before her the hero of the
story of the ham that she had heard so many times, her face lost its
expression of distrust, and she held out her hand to Jack.

"This time Belisaire is right. He has brought me a half dozen of his
comrades who were not worth the cord to hang them with. He is very
innocent, because he is so good."

Then came a discussion as to arrangements. It was decided that until the
marriage he should share Belisaire's room and buy himself a bed; they
would share the expenses, and Jack would pay his proportion every
Saturday. After the marriage, they would establish themselves more
commodiously, and nearer the Eyssendeck Works. This establishment
recalled to him Indret on a smaller scale. Owing to lack of space, there
were in the same room three rows, one above the other, of machines.
Jack was on the upper floor, where all the noise and dust of the place
ascended. When he leaned over the railing of the gallery, he beheld
a constant whirl of human arms, and a regular and monotonous beat of
machinery.

The heat was intense, worse than at Indret, because there was less
ventilation; but Jack bore up bravely under it, for his inner life
supported him through all the trials of the day. His companions saw
intuitively that he lived apart from them, indifferent to their petty
quarrels and rivalries. Jack shared neither their pleasures nor their
hatreds. He never listened to their sullen complaints, nor the muttered
thunder of this great Faubourg, concealed like a Ghetto in this
magnificent city. He paid no attention to the socialistic theories, the
natural growth in the minds of those who live poor and suffering so near
the wealthier classes.

I am not disposed to assert that Jack's companions liked him especially,
but they respected him at all events. As to the workwomen, they
looked upon him much as a Prince Rodolphe,--for they had all read "The
Mysteries of Paris,"--and admired his tall, slender figure and his
careful dress. But the poor girls threw away their smiles, for he passed
their corner of the establishment with scarcely a glance. This corner
was never without its excitement and drama, for most of the workwomen
had a lover among the men, and this led to all sorts of jealousies a