ther to owe everything, even life itself,
and the comfort of the wretched invalid, to the brave, energetic lad,
of whom his father and she had always been fond, but without genuine
tenderness, and whom, from the time he was five years old, they had
been accustomed to treat as a day-laborer, because he was very strong
and hairy and ugly, and was already shrewder than any one else in the
house in the matter of dealing in old iron. Ah! how she would have
liked to have her Cadet with her, to repay him a little of all he was
doing for her, to pay in one sum all the arrears of affection, of
motherly cosseting that she owed him.

But, you see, these kingly fortunes have the burdens, the vexations of
kingly existences. Poor Mother Jansoulet, in her dazzling surroundings,
was much like a genuine queen, having undergone the long banishments,
the cruel separations and trials which atone for earthly grandeur; one
of her sons in a state of stupid lethargy for all time, the other far
away, writing little, engrossed by his great interests, always saying,
"I will come," and never coming. In twelve years she had seen him but
once, in the confusion of the bey's visit at Saint-Romans: a bewildering
succession of horses, carriages, fireworks, and festivities. Then he
had whirled away again behind his sovereign, having had hardly time to
embrace his old mother, who had retained naught of that great joy, so
impatiently awaited, save a few newspaper pictures, in which Bernard
Jansoulet was exhibited arriving at the chateau with Ahmed and
presenting his aged mother to him,--is not that the way in which kings
and queens have their family reunions illustrated in the journals?--plus
a cedar of Lebanon, brought from the end of the world,--a great
_caramantran_ of a tree, which was as costly to move and as much in the
way as the obelisk--being hoisted and planted by force of men and money
and horses; a tree which had wrought confusion among the shrubbery as
the price of setting up a souvenir commemorative of the royal visit. On
his present trip to France, at least, knowing that he had come for
several months, perhaps forever, she hoped to have her Bernard all to
herself. And lo! he swooped down upon her one fine evening, enveloped
in the same triumphant splendor, in the same official pomp, surrounded
by a multitude of counts, marquises, fine gentlemen from Paris, who
with their servants filled the two great breaks she had sent to meet
them at the l