y. My sisters marched on ahead, arm in arm.
They were of marriageable age and had to be displayed. I walked on the
left of my mother and my father on her right. I remember the pompous air
of my poor parents in these Sunday walks, their stern expression, their
stiff walk. They moved slowly, with a serious expression, their bodies
straight, their legs stiff, as if something of extreme importance
depended upon their appearance.

"Every Sunday, when the big steamers were returning from unknown and
distant countries, my father would invariably utter the same words:

"'What a surprise it would be if Jules were on that one! Eh?'

"My Uncle Jules, my father's brother, was the only hope of the family,
after being its only fear. I had heard about him since childhood, and
it seemed to me that I should recognize him immediately, knowing as much
about him as I did. I knew every detail of his life up to the day of his
departure for America, although this period of his life was spoken of
only in hushed tones.

"It seems that he had led a bad life, that is to say, he had squandered
a little money, which action, in a poor family, is one of the greatest
crimes. With rich people a man who amuses himself only sows his wild
oats. He is what is generally called a sport. But among needy families
a boy who forces his parents to break into the capital becomes a
good-for-nothing, a rascal, a scamp. And this distinction is just,
although the action be the same, for consequences alone determine the
seriousness of the act.

"Well, Uncle Jules had visibly diminished the inheritance on which my
father had counted, after he had swallowed his own to the last penny.
Then, according to the custom of the times, he had been shipped off to
America on a freighter going from Havre to New York.

"Once there, my uncle began to sell something or other, and he soon
wrote that he was making a little money and that he soon hoped to be
able to indemnify my father for the harm he had done him. This letter
caused a profound emotion in the family. Jules, who up to that time
had not been worth his salt, suddenly became a good man, a kind-hearted
fellow, true and honest like all the Davranches.

"One of the captains told us that he had rented a large shop and was
doing an important business.

"Two years later a second letter came, saying: 'My dear Philippe, I am
writing to tell you not to worry about my health, which is excellent.
Business is good. I leave to-mo