than beggars. They are too extravagant not to be always a bad sort. I
served the late Monsieur Joseph Vernet, the late Monsieur Lekain, and
the late Monsieur Noverre. Oh, if you could only know the tricks played
on poor Father Chevrel by that Monsieur Noverre, by the Chevalier de
Saint-Georges, and especially by Monsieur Philidor! They are a set of
rascals; I know them well! They all have a gab and nice manners. Ah,
your Monsieur Sumer--, Somm----"

"De Sommervieux, papa."

"Well, well, de Sommervieux, well and good. He can never have been half
so sweet to you as Monsieur le Chevalier de Saint-Georges was to me the
day I got a verdict of the consuls against him. And in those days they
were gentlemen of quality."

"But, father, Monsieur Theodore is of good family, and he wrote me that
he is rich; his father was called Chevalier de Sommervieux before the
Revolution."

At these words Monsieur Guillaume looked at his terrible better half,
who, like an angry woman, sat tapping the floor with her foot while
keeping sullen silence; she avoided even casting wrathful looks
at Augustine, appearing to leave to Monsieur Guillaume the whole
responsibility in so grave a matter, since her opinion was not listened
to. Nevertheless, in spite of her apparent self-control, when she
saw her husband giving way so mildly under a catastrophe which had no
concern with business, she exclaimed:

"Really, monsieur, you are so weak with your daughters! However----"

The sound of a carriage, which stopped at the door, interrupted the
rating which the old draper already quaked at. In a minute Madame Roguin
was standing in the middle of the room, and looking at the actors in
this domestic scene: "I know all, my dear cousin," said she, with a
patronizing air.

Madame Roguin made the great mistake of supposing that a Paris notary's
wife could play the part of a favorite of fashion.

"I know all," she repeated, "and I have come into Noah's Ark, like
the dove, with the olive-branch. I read that allegory in the _Genie du
Christianisme_," she added, turning to Madame Guillaume; "the allusion
ought to please you, cousin. Do you know," she went on, smiling at
Augustine, "that Monsieur de Sommervieux is a charming man? He gave me
my portrait this morning, painted by a master's hand. It is worth at
least six thousand francs." And at these words she patted Monsieur
Guillaume on the arm. The old draper could not help making a grimace
with his lips, whi