his lips thrust
out This fierce maniac was an Astier-Rehu whom his wife did not know. In
the sudden glow of a passion human beings do thus take aspects unknown
to those who know them best The next minute the Academician was quite
calm, again, and was explaining, not without embarrassment, that these
documents were indispensable to him as an author, especially now that
he could not command the Records of the Foreign Office. To sell these
materials would be to give up writing. On the contrary, he hoped to make
additions to them. Then, with a touch of bitterness and affection, which
betrayed the whole depth of the father's disappointment, he said, 'After
my time, my fine gentleman of a son may sell them if he chooses; and
since all he wants is to be rich, I will answer for it that he will be.'

'Yes; but meanwhile----'

This 'meanwhile' was said in a little flute-like voice so cruelly
natural and quiet that Leonard, unable to control his jealousy of this
son who left him no place in his wife's heart, retorted with a solemn
snap of the jaw, 'Meanwhile, madam, others can do as I do. I have no
mansion, I keep no horses and no English cart. The tramway does for
my going and coming, and I am content to live on a third floor over an
_entresol_, where I am exposed to Teyssedre. I work night and day, I
pile up volume after volume, two and three octavos in a year. I am on
two committees of the Academie; I never miss a meeting; I never miss
a funeral; and even in the summer I never accept an invitation to the
country, lest I should miss a single tally. I hope my son, when he is
sixty-five, may be as indefatigable.'

It was long since he had spoken of Paul, and never had he spoken so
severely. The mother was struck by his tone, and in her look, as she
glanced sidelong, almost wickedly, at her husband, there was a shade of
respect, which had not been there before.

'There is a ring,' said Leonard eagerly, rising as he spoke, and
flinging his table napkin upon the back of his chair. 'That must be my
man.'

'It's some one for you, ma'am; they are beginning early to-day,' said
Corentine, as, with her kitchen-maid's fingers wiped hastily on her
apron, she laid a card on the edge of the table. Madame Astier looked
at it. 'The Vicomte de Freydet.' A gleam came into her eyes. But her
delight was not perceptible in the calm tone in which she said, 'So M.
de Freydet is in Paris?'

'Yes, about his book.'

'Bless me! His book! I have no