ning, put on his maroon-colored coat, of which the
glowing lights afforded him perennial enjoyment, fastened a pair of gold
buckles on the knee-straps of his ample satin breeches; and then, at
about seven o'clock, while all were still sleeping in the house, he
made his way to the little office adjoining the shop on the first floor.
Daylight came in through a window, fortified by iron bars, and looking
out on a small yard surrounded by such black walls that it was very like
a well. The old merchant opened the iron-lined shutters, which were so
familiar to him, and threw up the lower half of the sash window. The icy
air of the courtyard came in to cool the hot atmosphere of the little
room, full of the odor peculiar to offices.

The merchant remained standing, his hand resting on the greasy arm of
a large cane chair lined with morocco, of which the original hue had
disappeared; he seemed to hesitate as to seating himself. He looked with
affection at the double desk, where his wife's seat, opposite his own,
was fitted into a little niche in the wall. He contemplated the
numbered boxes, the files, the implements, the cash box--objects all
of immemorial origin, and fancied himself in the room with the shade of
Master Chevrel. He even pulled out the high stool on which he had once
sat in the presence of his departed master. This stool, covered with
black leather, the horse-hair showing at every corner--as it had long
done, without, however, coming out--he placed with a shaking hand on the
very spot where his predecessor had put it, and then, with an emotion
difficult to describe, he pulled a bell, which rang at the head of
Joseph Lebas' bed. When this decisive blow had been struck, the old man,
for whom, no doubt, these reminiscences were too much, took up three or
four bills of exchange, and looked at them without seeing them.

Suddenly Joseph Lebas stood before him.

"Sit down there," said Guillaume, pointing to the stool.

As the old master draper had never yet bid his assistant be seated in
his presence, Joseph Lebas was startled.

"What do you think of these notes?" asked Guillaume.

"They will never be paid."

"Why?"

"Well, I heard the day before yesterday Etienne and Co. had made their
payments in gold."

"Oh, oh!" said the draper. "Well, one must be very ill to show one's
bile. Let us speak of something else.--Joseph, the stock-taking is
done."

"Yes, monsieur, and the dividend is one of the best you have