sition in everything that
did not pertain to military art.

"That poor little Camille worships Gerard," said he; "she was devouring
him with her eyes at table."

But M. de Morigny gravely intervened: "There lies the danger, a marriage
would be absolutely monstrous from every point of view."

The General seemed astonished: "Why, pray? She isn't beautiful, but it's
not only the beauties who marry! And there are her millions. However, our
dear child would only have to put them to a good use. True, there is also
the mother; but, _mon Dieu_! such things are so common nowadays in Paris
society."

This revolted the Marquis, who made a gesture of utter disgust. What was
the use of discussion when all collapsed? How could one answer a
Bozonnet, the last surviving representative of such an illustrious
family, when he reached such a point as to excuse the infamous morals
that prevailed under the Republic; after denying his king, too, and
serving the Empire, faithfully and passionately attaching himself to the
fortunes and memory of Caesar? However, the Countess also became
indignant: "Oh! what are you saying, brother? I will never authorize such
a scandal, I swore so only just now."

"Don't swear, sister," exclaimed the General; "for my part I should like
to see our Gerard happy. That's all. And one must admit that he's not
good for much. I can understand that he didn't go into the Army, for that
profession is done for. But I do not so well understand why he did not
enter the diplomatic profession, or accept some other occupation. It is
very fine, no doubt, to run down the present times and declare that a man
of our sphere cannot possibly do any clean work in them. But, as a matter
of fact, it is only idle fellows who still say that. And Gerard has but
one excuse, his lack of aptitude, will and strength."

Tears had risen to the mother's eyes. She even trembled, well knowing how
deceitful were appearances: a mere chill might carry her son off, however
tall and strong he might look. And was he not indeed a symbol of that
old-time aristocracy, still so lofty and proud in appearance, though at
bottom it is but dust?

"Well," continued the General, "he's thirty-six now; he's constantly
hanging on your hands, and he must make an end of it all."

However, the Countess silenced him and turned to the Marquis: "Let us put
our confidence in God, my friend," said she. "He cannot but come to my
help, for I have never willingly offend