kinsman.

Casimir looked at the mound of ruins, he tried the quality of the
tarpaulin. "H'm," he said, "I hope the cellar arch has stood. If it has,
my good brother, I will give you a good price for the wines."

"We shall start digging to-morrow," said the sentry. "There is no more
fear of snow."

"My friend," returned Casimir sententiously, "you had better wait till
you get paid."

The Doctor winced, and began dragging his offensive brother-in-law
towards Tentaillon's. In the house there would be fewer auditors, and
these already in the secret of his fall.

"Hullo!" cried Casimir, "there goes the stable-boy with his luggage; no,
egad, he is taking it into the inn."

And sure enough, Jean-Marie was seen to cross the snowy street and enter
Tentaillon's, staggering under a large hamper.

The Doctor stopped with a sudden, wild hope.

"What can he have?" he said. "Let us go and see." And he hurried on.

"His luggage, to be sure," answered Casimir. "He is on the move--thanks
to the commercial imagination."

"I have not seen that hamper for--for ever so long," remarked the Doctor.

"Nor will you see it much longer," chuckled Casimir, "unless, indeed, we
interfere. And by the way, I insist on an examination."

"You will not require," said Desprez, positively with a sob; and, casting
a moist, triumphant glance at Casimir, he began to run.

"What the devil is up with him, I wonder?" Casimir reflected; and then,
curiosity taking the upper hand, he followed the Doctor's example and
took to his heels.

The hamper was so heavy and large, and Jean-Marie himself so little and
so weary, that it had taken him a great while to bundle it upstairs to
the Desprez' private room; and he had just set it down on the floor in
front of Anastasie, when the Doctor arrived, and was closely followed by
the man of business. Boy and hamper were both in a most sorry plight; for
the one had passed four months underground in a certain cave on the way
to Acheres, and the other had run about five miles as hard as his legs
would carry him, half that distance under a staggering weight.

"Jean-Marie," cried the Doctor, in a voice that was only too seraphic to
be called hysterical, "is it----? It is!" he cried. "Oh, my son, my son!"
And he sat down upon the hamper and sobbed like a little child.

"You will not go to Paris now," said Jean-Marie sheepishly.

"Casimir," said Desprez, raising his wet face, "do you see that boy, that
angel boy? H