ted sockets for hydrostatic lamps,--in short, all the
infinitely little inventions of material civilization which pay so well.
He bore Bixiou's jests as a busy man bears the buzzing of an insect; he
was not even annoyed by them. In spite of his cleverness, Bixiou never
perceived the profound contempt which Minard felt for him. Minard never
dreamed of quarrelling, however,--regarding it as a loss of time. After
a while his composure tired out his tormentor. He always breakfasted
with his wife, and ate nothing at the office. Once a month he took Zelie
to the theatre, with tickets bestowed by du Bruel or Bixiou; for Bixiou
was capable of anything, even of doing a kindness. Monsieur and Madame
Minard paid their visits in person on New-Year's day. Those who saw
them often asked how it was that a woman could keep her husband in good
clothes, wear a Leghorn bonnet with flowers, embroidered muslin dresses,
silk mantles, prunella boots, handsome fichus, a Chinese parasol,
and drive home in a hackney-coach, and yet be virtuous; while Madame
Colleville and other "ladies" of her kind could scarcely make ends meet,
though they had double Madame Minard's means.

In the two bureaus were two clerks so devoted to each other that their
friendship became the butt of all the rest. He of the bureau Baudoyer,
named Colleville, was chief-clerk, and would have been head of the
bureau long before if the Restoration had never happened. His wife was
as clever in her way as Madame Rabourdin in hers. Colleville, who was
son of a first violin at the opera, fell in love with the daughter of a
celebrated danseuse. Flavie Minoret, one of those capable and charming
Parisian women who know how to make their husbands happy and yet
preserve their own liberty, made the Colleville home a rendezvous for
all our best artists and orators. Colleville's humble position under
government was forgotten there. Flavie's conduct gave such food for
gossip, however, that Madame Rabourdin had declined all her invitations.
The friend in Rabourdin's bureau to whom Colleville was so attached was
named Thuillier. All who knew one knew the other. Thuillier, called "the
handsome Thuillier," an ex-Lothario, led as idle a life as Colleville
led a busy one. Colleville, government official in the mornings and
first clarionet at the Opera-Comique at night, worked hard to maintain
his family, though he was not without influential friends. He was looked
upon as a very shrewd man,--all