in my history, in France the
provisional is the only thing that lasts. Loisillon has been dying any
time this ten years. He'll see every one of us buried yet--every one of
us,' he repeated angrily, pulling at his dry bread. It was clear that
Teyssedre had put him into a very bad temper indeed.

Madame Astier went to another subject, the special meeting of all the
five Academies, which was to take place within a few days, and to be
honoured by the presence of the Grand Duke Leopold of Finland. It so
happened that Astier-Rehu, being director for the coming quarter, was to
preside at the meeting and to deliver the opening speech, in which his
Highness was to receive a compliment. Skilfully questioned about this
speech, which he was already planning, Leonard described it in outline.
It was to be a crushing attack upon the modern school of literature--a
sound thrashing administered in public to these pretenders, these
dunces. And at this his eyes, big with his heavy meal, lighted up his
square face, and the blood rose under his thick bushy eyebrows. They
were still coal-black, and contrasted strangely with the white circle of
his beard.

'By the way,' said he suddenly, 'what about my uniform coat? Has it been
seen to? The last time I wore it, at Montribot's funeral----'

But do not women think of everything? Madame Astier had seen to the coat
that very morning. The silk of the palm leaves was getting shabby; the
lining was all to pieces. It was very old. Oh, dear, when did he wear
it first? Why, it was as long ago--as long ago--as when he was admitted!
The twelfth of October, eighteen-sixty-six! He had better order a new
one for the Meeting. The five Academies, a Royal Highness, and all
Paris! Such an audience was worth a new coat. Leonard protested, not
energetically, on the ground of expense. With a new coat he would want
a new waistcoat; knee-breeches were not worn now, but a new waistcoat
would be indispensable.

'My dear, you really must!' She continued to press him. If they did
not take care they would make themselves ridiculous with their economy.
There were too many shabby old things about them. The furniture of her
room, for instance! It made her feel ashamed when a friend came in, and
for a sum comparatively trifling.

'Ouais! quelque sot,' muttered Astier-Rehu, who liked to quote his
classics. The furrow in his forehead deepened, and under it, as under
the bar of a shutter, his countenance, which had been ope