of burgher dignity, until some unknown
misfortune had again reduced his present descendant to the condition of
a serf, with the addition of wages. The whole history of Flanders and
its linen-trade was epitomized in this old man, often called, by way of
euphony, Mulquinier. He was not without originality, either of character
or appearance. His face was triangular in shape, broad and long, and
seamed by small-pox which had left innumerable white and shining patches
that gave him a fantastic appearance. He was tall and thin; his whole
demeanor solemn and mysterious; and his small eyes, yellow as the wig
which was smoothly plastered on his head, cast none but oblique glances.

The old valet's outward man was in keeping with the feeling of curiosity
which he everywhere inspired. His position as assistant to his master,
the depositary of a secret jealously guarded and about which he
maintained a rigid silence, invested him with a species of charm. The
denizens of the rue de Paris watched him pass with an interest mingled
with awe; to all their questions he returned sibylline answers big with
mysterious treasures. Proud of being necessary to his master, he assumed
an annoying authority over his companions, employing it to further his
own interests and compel a submission which made him virtually the ruler
of the house. Contrary to the custom of Flemish servants, who are deeply
attached to the families whom they serve, Mulquinier cared only for
Balthazar. If any trouble befell Madame Claes, or any joyful event
happened to the family, he ate his bread and butter and drank his beer
as phlegmatically as ever.

Dinner over, Madame Claes proposed that coffee should be served in
the garden, by the bed of tulips which adorned the centre of it. The
earthenware pots in which the bulbs were grown (the name of each flower
being engraved on slate labels) were sunk in the ground and so
arranged as to form a pyramid, at the summit of which rose a certain
dragon's-head tulip which Balthazar alone possessed. This flower, named
"tulipa Claesiana," combined the seven colors; and the curved edges of
each petal looked as though they were gilt. Balthazar's father, who had
frequently refused ten thousand florins for this treasure, took such
precautions against the theft of a single seed that he kept the plant
always in the parlor and often spent whole days in contemplating it. The
stem was enormous, erect, firm, and admirably green; the proportions