ur plan, you must light the new staircase from above,
and manage to get a porter's lodge beneath it."

"Beneath it?"

"Yes, the space over which it rests--"

"I understand, monsieur."

"As for your own appartement, give me carte-blanche to arrange and
decorate it. I wish to make it worthy--"

"Worthy! You have said the word, monsieur."

"How much time do you give me to complete the work?"

"Twenty days."

"What sum do you mean to put in the workmen's pockets?" asked Grindot.

"How much do you think it will cost?"

"An architect can estimate on a new building almost to a farthing,"
answered the young man; "but as I don't know how to deal with a
bourgeois--ah! excuse me, monsieur, the word slipped out--I must warn
you that it is impossible to calculate the costs of tearing down and
rebuilding. It will take at least eight days before I can give even
an approximate idea of them. Trust yourself to me: you shall have a
charming staircase, lighted from above, with a pretty vestibule opening
from the street, and in the space under the stairway--"

"Must that be used?"

"Don't be worried--I will find room for a little porter's lodge. Your
house shall be studied and remodelled _con amore_. Yes, monsieur, I look
to art and not to fortune. Above all things I do not want fame before I
have earned it. To my mind, the best means of winning credit is not to
play into the hands of contractors, but to get at good effects cheaply."

"With such ideas, young man," said Birotteau in a patronizing tone, "you
will succeed."

"Therefore," resumed Grindot, "employ the masons, painters, locksmiths,
carpenters, and upholsterers yourself. I will simply look over their
accounts. Pay me only two thousand francs commission. It will be money
well laid out. Give me the premises to-morrow at twelve o'clock, and
have your workmen on the spot."

"How much it will cost, at a rough guess?" said Birotteau.

"From ten to twelve thousand francs," said Grindot. "That does not count
the furniture; of course you will renew that. Give me the address of
your cabinet-maker; I shall have to arrange with him about the choice of
colors, so as to have everything in keeping."

"Monsieur Braschon, Rue Saint-Antoine, takes my orders," said Birotteau,
assuming a ducal air.

The architect wrote down the address in one of those pretty note-books
which invariably come from women.

"Well," said Birotteau, "I trust to you, monsieur; only you must wait
til