ed at all; that he was far
from being rich; that although he took his dinner with his parents,
his salary barely sufficed for his wants; and that he had debts.

He hoped, however, he added, that it would not be always thus, and
that, sooner or later, he would see the termination of all this
misery and privation; for his father had at least fifty thousand
francs a year and some day he must be rich.

Far from smiling, Mlle. Lucienne frowned at such a prospect.

"Ah! your father is a millionaire, is he?" she interrupted. "Well,
I understand now how, at twenty-five, after refusing all the
positions which have been offered to you, you have no position. You
relied on your father, instead of relying on yourself. Judging that
he worked hard enough for two, you bravely folded your arms, waiting
for the fortune which he is amassing, and which you seem to consider
yours."

Such morality seemed a little steep to Maxence. "I think," he began,
"that, if one is the son of a rich man--"

"One has the right to be useless, I suppose?" added the girl.

"I do not mean that; but--"

"There is no but about it. And the proof that your views are wrong,
is that they have brought you where you are, and deprived you of your
own free will. To place one's self at the mercy of another, be that
other your own father, is always silly; and one is always at the
mercy of the man from whom he expects money that he has not earned.
Your father would never have been so harsh, had he not believed that
you could not do without him."

He wanted to discuss: she stopped him.

"Do you wish the proof that you are at M. Favoral's mercy?" she said.
"Very well. You spoke of marrying me."

"Ah, if you were willing!"

"Very well. Go and speak of it to your father."

"I suppose--"

"You don't suppose any thing at all: you are absolutely certain that
he will refuse you his consent."

"I could do without it."

"I admit that you could. But do you know what he would do then?
He would arrange things in such a way that you would never get a
centime of his fortune."

Maxence had never thought of that.

"Therefore," the young girl went on gayly, "though there is as yet
no question of marriage, learn to secure your independence; that
is, the means of living. And to that effect let us work."

It was from that moment, that Mme. Favoral had noticed in her son
the change that had surprised her so much.

Under the inspiration, under the impulsion, o