uis contente!_" She heaved a great
sigh as though she had awakened from the night-mare of seeing herself a
dripping corpse in the Morgue. "It is no longer the same thing when you
are not in the house. Truly I am happy, Master. You can't understand."

There was a little throb in her voice which Paragot seemed to notice,
for as he bent down to her, his grip of my arm relaxed, and, I suppose,
his grip of hers tightened.

"It gives you such pleasure that I come back, my little Blanquette?" he
said tenderly.

I craned my head forward and saw her raise her faithful eyes to his and
smile, as she pronounced her eternal "_Oui, Maitre_."

"It is only Asticot who does not welcome the prodigal father."

I protested. He laughed away my protestations. Then suddenly he stopped
and drew a long breath, and gazed at the tall houses whose lines cut the
frosty sky into a straight strip.

"Ah! how good it smells. How good it is to be in Paris again!"

The door of a _marchand de vin_ swung open just by our noses to give
exit to a reveller, and the hot poisoned air streamed forth.

"And how good it is, the smell of alcohols. I could kiss the honest sot
who has just reeled out and is skating across the road. _A bas les
bourgeois!_"

He did not carry out his unpleasing desire, but when we reached the
salon in the Rue des Saladiers, and we had lit the lamp, he kissed
Blanquette on both cheeks, still crying out how good it was to be back.
Narcisse, mad with delight, capered about him and barked his rapture. He
did not in the least mind a master lapsed from grace.

Paragot threw himself on a chair, his hat still on his head. Oh, how
dirty, dilapidated and unshaven he was! I felt too miserable with
apprehension to emulate Narcisse's enthusiasm. It was cold. I opened the
door of the stove to let the glowing heat come out into the room.
Blanquette went to the kitchen to prepare the coffee.

Suddenly Paragot leaped to his feet, cast his silk hat on the floor and
stamped it into a pancake. Then he thrust it into the stove and shut the
door.

"_Voila!_" he cried.

Before I could interfere he had taken off his frock-coat and holding one
skirt in his hands and securing the other with his foot had ripped it
from waist to neck. He was going to burn this also, when I stopped him.

"_Laisse-moi!_" said he impatiently.

"It will make such a horrid smell, Master," said I.

He threw the garment across the room with a laugh.

"It is true." He