ever made."

"Do not use new-fangled words. Say the profits, Joseph. Do you know, my
boy, that this result is partly owing to you? And I do not intend to pay
you a salary any longer. Madame Guillaume has suggested to me to take
you into partnership.--'Guillaume and Lebas;' will not that make a
good business name? We might add, 'and Co.' to round off the firm's
signature."

Tears rose to the eyes of Joseph Lebas, who tried to hide them.

"Oh, Monsieur Guillaume, how have I deserved such kindness? I only do my
duty. It was so much already that you should take an interest in a poor
orph----"

He was brushing the cuff of his left sleeve with his right hand, and
dared not look at the old man, who smiled as he thought that this modest
young fellow no doubt needed, as he had needed once on a time, some
encouragement to complete his explanation.

"To be sure," said Virginie's father, "you do not altogether deserve
this favor, Joseph. You have not so much confidence in me as I have in
you." (The young man looked up quickly.) "You know all the secrets
of the cash-box. For the last two years I have told you almost all
my concerns. I have sent you to travel in our goods. In short, I have
nothing on my conscience as regards you. But you--you have a soft place,
and you have never breathed a word of it." Joseph Lebas blushed. "Ah,
ha!" cried Guillaume, "so you thought you could deceive an old fox like
me? When you knew that I had scented the Lecocq bankruptcy?"

"What, monsieur?" replied Joseph Lebas, looking at his master as keenly
as his master looked at him, "you knew that I was in love?"

"I know everything, you rascal," said the worthy and cunning old
merchant, pulling the assistant's ear. "And I forgive you--I did the
same myself."

"And you will give her to me?"

"Yes--with fifty thousand crowns; and I will leave you as much by will,
and we will start on our new career under the name of a new firm. We
will do good business yet, my boy!" added the old man, getting up and
flourishing his arms. "I tell you, son-in-law, there is nothing like
trade. Those who ask what pleasure is to be found in it are simpletons.
To be on the scent of a good bargain, to hold your own on 'Change, to
watch as anxiously as at the gaming-table whether Etienne and Co. will
fail or no, to see a regiment of Guards march past all dressed in your
cloth, to trip your neighbor up--honestly of course!--to make the goods
cheaper than others can; then