“As for this gentleman—from the Tower, he is not an acquaintance. We have met him twice, and both times his assistance was quite necessary to us; he escorted us as far as our gate, but he has never entered the house, and probably never will.”

“Ah! my dear friend, suppose Madame Droguet had heard that strange man’s words in the ravine, beside the cross! what fine tales she would have to tell!”

“Hush, Agathe, hush, for heaven’s sake! I shudder in spite of myself when I think of that. I feel that it would distress me to be compelled to have a bad opinion of that man.”

“Especially as he has very refined manners, and a very comme il faut air, has this Monsieur Paul. I am sure that he would be very fine-looking, if he hadn’t so much hair on his face.”

“Oh! I didn’t notice that; I hardly looked at him. He has black eyes, hasn’t he?”

“Not exactly—brown; but very soft.”

“Do you think so? And a scornful mouth?”

“Oh, no! his smile is very agreeable.”

“What! did he smile while he was talking to us?”

“When I slipped and almost fell, I clung to him, and that made him smile.”

“It’s strange; I remember nothing of all that.”

The conversation of the two friends was interrupted by sobs from Poucette, who tried in vain to check them. They rose at once to inquire the cause of their servant’s grief.

Little Claudine, Poucette’s cousin, had just arrived; her eyes were red, and she too was crying; evidently it was something that she had told Poucette which caused the young peasant to sob so bitterly.

“What is the matter, my child; what makes you so unhappy?” Madame Dalmont asked her servant.

But she, according to the custom of country people, continued to sob and made no reply.

“And you, my girl,” said Agathe to Claudine, “you are crying too; is it something you have told your cousin that is making her cry?”

“Yes—yes—mamzelle.”

“What misfortune has come upon you? Come, speak.”

“Ye—Ye—yes, madame!”

The young peasant succeeded at last in forcing back her sobs.

“Madame, Claudine has just told me that they’re very unhappy at home. My poor uncle—poor aunt! what is going to become of them! They’re going to sell everything in their home to-day, furniture and everything! Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! and turn them out of their cottage, which won’t belong to them any more! What is going to become of them! Here, Claudine, I’ve got three francs left out of my wages, and I’ll give ‘em to you. Oh! if I had more!”

“You can’t have any more, when you give us all you earn!”

“Poor people! why this is frightful!” cried Honorine. “Who on earth is so hard-hearted as to despoil those unfortunate creatures, who have hardly enough to provide their children with food and shelter?”

“Who? Alas! madame, it’s Monsieur Jarnouillard; he has lent small sums to Uncle Guillot at different times. Well! it was a hard winter, and he had four children to take care of, and me too with the rest. It seems that Monsieur Jarnouillard made my uncle sign some bits of paper, so, if he wasn’t paid just on the minute, he could take everything my poor uncle owned!”

“Oh! what a wretch that Monsieur Jarnouillard is!” cried Agathe, “he does well not to show his face here, for we would put him out of doors, we wouldn’t have him in the house. And these are the people that say unkind things about us, who would be so distressed to cause pain to anyone! Madame Droguet’s society contains some most estimable people!”

While Agathe made these reflections, Honorine had gone up hastily to her room; she returned with her bonnet on her head, and said to Agathe:

“Come with me.”

“Where are we going, my dear?”

“Mon Dieu! to Guillot’s cottage, to see if there is any way of assisting those poor people, and at the very least to save some of their furniture. I have a hundred francs I can give them; it’s very little, but still it will help them.”

“Oh! my good Honorine, if it were possible, I would love you even more.”

The two friends left the house, followed by Poucette and Claudine, who had ceased to weep because they hoped and divined that the ladies proposed to assist their dear ones.

In due time they reached the farmer’s cottage, where a number of people had already collected. For the announcement of a sale on execution always brings together a multitude of bargain-hunters and idlers.

Guillot’s wife sat at the foot of a tree, about forty yards from the house, holding her last-born child at her breast, while the two others stood at her side, hiding their faces against their mother’s skirts as if terrified by the sight of all those people. The peasant gazed with tear-dimmed eyes at her hovel and at all the poor furniture that was brought from it, to be offered for sale; then she turned her eyes on her children, and her glance said plainly:

“We have no roof to shelter us; where will they sleep to-night?”

A short distance away, the farmer himself, in despair but striving to retain his courage, watched the officers of the law who had taken their places at a table, and were preparing to begin the sale.

Monsieur Jarnouillard walked about, examining the different articles as they were brought from the house, and muttering with a shrug:

“Mon Dieu! what wretched stuff! I shall never get my money back. The wood is rotten; it will crumble to powder!”

Meanwhile Guillot approached his creditor, hat in hand, and said to him in a suppliant tone:

“Oh! monsieur, are you going to sell my house, too?”

“Such as it is, monsieur, it has sheltered me and my family; it came to me from my father, too, and I was fond of it.”

“What difference does all that make to me? It would have been better for me if it had come from the devil and had been built of hewn stone. Nobody’ll give anything for your hut.”

“If you don’t think anybody’ll give anything for it, monsieur, why do you have it sold?”

“Why? and what about the money you owe me? do you imagine I shall get it back from the sale of your furniture? Nice stuff, that is! You have taken me in, my good man; I am sold, trapped is the word.”

On hearing this accusation from the mouth of the man who was robbing him, the farmer proudly raised his head and replied in a firm voice:

“I have never deceived anybody, monsieur! I am an honest man, and everybody in the neighborhood knows it; and if either of us has cheated the other I am not the one, do you understand?”

The usurer lowered his crest and his tone, as such men always do when they are afraid of being unmasked.

“Bless my soul! Guillot,” he rejoined; “don’t lose your temper; I may have said one word when I meant another; my tongue must have taken a twist. I never intended to attack your honesty; but of course you understand that I must get back what I have advanced.”

“Of principal, yes; but the interest, which never stops running—and interest on interest—all that counts up; so that you owe me to-day eight hundred and seventy-five francs, besides the costs of the execution and sale; it will amount to a thousand francs.”

“My God!”

“That’s why I am obliged to sell your cottage, as well as your furniture.”

“But suppose it should bring more, monsieur?”

“Oh! if it should bring more than your debt and the costs, the surplus would go to you—that’s your right; but unluckily, instead of going above a thousand francs, I’m afraid it will fall far short of it.”

“But, monsieur, if you’re going to sell a house you must have buyers; and to bring them together it is necessary for them to know beforehand that it’s to be sold.”

“Don’t be afraid, all the formalities have been attended to; the notices were posted.”

“I didn’t see them.”

“That isn’t my fault.”

“Among all these people that I see here, there isn’t one who will buy my house.”

“Pshaw! there’s sure to be someone; at a pinch, I’ll buy it myself.”

“You, monsieur!”

As he said this, Monsieur Jarnouillard rubbed his hands, thinking:

“There won’t be any other purchaser and I shall get the house for almost nothing. Then I can let it to Guillot, and it will add just so much to my income.”

The farmer moved away from his creditor, with death in his heart and despair on his face. But, before joining his family, he tried to dissemble his suffering to some extent in order not to increase his wife’s grief. Luckily for the poor people, little Claudine came running toward them, followed by her cousin Poucette. And the child, pointing to Honorine and Agathe, who had stopped a short distance away, said:

“Don’t cry any more, mamma; there’s Poucette’s two mistresses; they’ve come with us and they’re very kind; they’re sorry for us.”

“Yes,” chimed in Poucette. “Don’t cry, aunt. My mistress told me to tell you that everything she bought would be for you; and she’ll buy all she can!”

The farmer’s wife felt as if she were coming to life again; she started to rise, to go with her husband to thank the lady who was so kindly disposed to them; but Poucette detained her.

Meanwhile the notables of the neighborhood, those who are commonly called the bourgeois in the country, began to arrive for the sale. The slightest novelty is an event which one is careful not to miss when one lives in a small village.

Moreover, Monsieur Jarnouillard, being interested in the success of the sale, had not failed to say to all his acquaintances:

“It’s always well to go to a sale; you often find something you need and that you had forgotten about; there are sure to be good opportunities; and you should seize opportunities; they don’t come twice.”

The Droguet family soon appeared on the scene, in the person of its tall, bulky mistress, who leaned familiarly on the arm of friend Luminot, the jovial dealer in wines. Little Monsieur Droguet walked behind his wife, taking measured steps, almost in rhythm.

Madame Jarnouillard came next, arm-in-arm with Madame Remplumé, a tall, machine-like person, as long and thin as a bean-pole, who, you would have sworn, was a man dressed as a woman. Behind them came a little man with a limp, Monsieur Remplumé, who never spoke, but who coughed, spat, took snuff, sneezed and blew his nose incessantly, which made him a very unpleasant neighbor; so that there was soon a vacant space about him. Lastly, Doctor Antoine Beaubichon appeared, some little distance behind this party.

“Look, my dear; here come all the people who speak ill of us. Really they are all so hideous that I am no longer surprised that they are spiteful!”

“Don’t seem to be looking toward them.”

“Why not, pray? Do you suppose I am going to give myself a crick in the neck because of Madame Droguet? I am very sorry that Monsieur Edmond is in Paris to-day; for he would have come with us, and that would have made all those people all the more frantic.—Ah! my dear, the doctor bows to us! Good for him! he is still polite, at all events.”

Honorine turned and bowed pleasantly to the doctor, thereby placing the former wine merchant in a painfully embarrassing position; for he too was facing the young woman and would have been glad to salute her; but Madame Droguet held his arm and glared at him fixedly and with such a determined expression that, in order to extricate himself adroitly from his predicament, Monsieur Luminot simulated five or six sneezes in quick succession; and everyone knows that in sneezing one usually makes a movement of the head which resembles a bow.

“Well! what does this mean?” demanded Madame Droguet, with an angry glance at her cavalier. “Why do you sneeze like that?”

“Why—I sneeze—Mon Dieu! because I had to sneeze. It takes you suddenly, you know; I suppose I have a cold in my head.”

“Or I; but you never know you have one until it appears.”

“Really, one would have thought that you were bowing to those women.”

“Well, upon my word! I never thought of such a thing.”

“Why did you sneeze toward them?”

“Faith! I sneezed when it caught me. I didn’t do it purposely.”

“All right!”

“The doctor bowed to those ladies.”

“I saw him; he’ll pay me for that; he was to apply leeches to Droguet to-morrow, but he shan’t do it.”

“Oh! but, consider—if your husband needs the leeches!”

“I tell you that not a leech shall be put on him. I propose to show the doctor how much I care for his prescriptions.”

“But if your husband complains of pains in his head——”

“Let me alone; I am beginning to believe that Doctor Beaubichon is just fit to take care of hens. Droguet is dancing on my dress at this moment; does he look sick?”

“There are the people from the Courtivaux house,” said Madame Remplumé, approaching Madame Droguet.

“Oh! we have seen them! they are noticeable enough. What rigs!”

“Their dresses are in wretched taste!”

“They look so to me.”

“Regular lorettes, aren’t they, Monsieur Luminot?”

“Dear me! mesdames, allow me first to ask you what you mean by lorettes?”

“Oh! the little innocent! who doesn’t know the ladies who live in the Bréda quarter in Paris!”

“I assure you that I don’t know that quarter! When I lived in Paris, I never went out of Bercy.”

“Hush, you wicked monster!”

Madame Jarnouillard interrupted this dialogue.

“Come, mesdames, and look over the furniture and other things to be sold,” she said; “sometimes one finds just the utensils one needs. Look at what is on exhibition.”

“Mon Dieu! madame, what do you expect us to buy in all that wretched trash?” cried Madame Droguet, with a disdainful glance at the farmer’s furniture. “I see nothing but rubbish—dirty stuff! and I have no doubt it’s all full of bugs!”

“That is what I was thinking!” muttered Madame Remplumé, while her husband spat at random.

“But there’s a pair of candlesticks that might do to use in the kitchen, eh, Droguet?—Bah! he doesn’t hear me; he’s whistling a polka.”

“Your husband is a zephyr!”

“He’s a wind, but not a zephyr!”

“Ah! that’s very good; I’ll remember that.—Did you hear that, Remplumé?”

“That isn’t a wind!” muttered Luminot; “it’s a continuous fusillade.”

“There are some very decent kettles.”

“Oh! oh! I wouldn’t want to boil artichokes in them!”

“And that bellows?”

“It’s a huge thing—like the bellows of a forge; but it’s the only thing here that one could use.”

“Jarnouillard is signalling that the sale is about to begin. Let us go nearer, mesdames.”

“Ah! look; the occupants of the Courtivaux house are approaching also.”

“Probably they mean to buy something.”

“Yes, yes; they intend to furnish their house with the peasant’s furniture; it will be good enough for them!”

The sale began.

The first object offered for sale was a table, still in good condition.

“Three francs for the table!” cried the auctioneer; “three fifty—fifty-five—sixty!”

The peasants bid five or ten centimes at a time. Honorine offered five francs. The bystanders stared at her in amazement, the peasants were stupefied, the second-hand dealers made wry faces.

The table was knocked down to Madame Dalmont.

“What did I tell you!” muttered Madame Droguet. “These lovely Parisians come here for their furniture!”

The Droguet party laughed sneeringly, and the ladies said to one another:

“What! do they want broken bowls and chipped plates, too! The commonest sort of china, and old sauce-pans!”

“Really those ladies will have a pretty lot of housekeeping utensils!”

“For my part, I think it’s disgraceful—disgraceful is the word—to buy such miserable stuff!”

“Oh! how glad I am that I came to see this! it will furnish us with amusement for a long time to come.”

“Do you know, I propose to cheat her out of that big bellows.”

“You must force the bidding.”

“Oh! I am bound to have it! you shall see.”

While Madame Droguet’s party amused themselves by making sport of the two young women, they exchanged pleasant smiles with the farmer’s family; the poor creatures felt a thrill of joy at each article that was adjudged to Honorine, for Poucette, who was standing near them, said:

“That’s for you; that will come back to you; madame is buying all these things to give them to you.”

While Jarnouillard, who saw that the bellows was in demand, consulted with the auctioneer as to the price they should set on it, Poucette ran to her mistress and whispered:

“Don’t buy the bellows, madame; it ain’t good for anything; the clack’s gone, and uncle always meant to burn it up.”

“Very well,” replied Honorine; “but, as Madame Droguet wants it, we must try to make her pay a good price for it.”

“Three francs for the bellows!” cried the auctioneer; and Madame Droguet said at once:

“Three francs ten sous!”

“Four francs!” said Honorine.

“Four francs ten sous!” rejoined the stout dame, who did not choose to bid by centimes.

“Five francs!” said Honorine.

“Well! six francs, sacrebleu!” cried Madame Droguet, her voice trembling with anger.

Honorine made no further bid; but she turned away to laugh with Agathe; for the wretched bellows was not worth fifty centimes.

“I knew well enough that I should get what I wanted, and that I would force that hussy to give way to me!” cried Madame Droguet, as she returned to her friends armed with the bellows, which she handed to her husband, saying:

Several other pieces of furniture and some mattresses were purchased by Honorine. But the bedding brought better prices, and the young widow was nearing the end of her hundred francs, when a new arrival appeared on the scene, walking among the dishes, leaping over the furniture, heedless of the objurgations of Monsieur Jarnouillard, who exclaimed again and again: “What in the devil is that dog doing here? For heaven’s sake, drive the beast away; he’s disarranging the whole sale; he’ll break something and the stuff is poor enough already!”

Ami, for it was he who had arrived, carried his lack of respect so far as to jump over the heads of Monsieur Jarnouillard and the auctioneer, who were seated at the table which served them for a desk.

The latter started back in alarm when the huge dog executed that gymnastic feat; the former hurriedly put his hand to his head to ensure the safety of his wig which came near being carried away by one of the dog’s paws.

Ami had performed this spring-board leap in order to join Agathe and to lavish tokens of affection upon her. The girl patted him on the neck; she spoke softly and caressingly to him. Meanwhile Honorine looked all about, for Ami’s presence ordinarily announced his master’s coming.

Meanwhile Monsieur Jarnouillard, who had had barely time to catch his wig, but had not been able to prevent its turning half round on his head, was obliged to readjust it before the whole assemblage. That made him very angry, and he shouted like a deaf man:

“Whose cursed dog is this that nearly put my eyes out, to say nothing of jumping over the auctioneer’s head and knocking over two candlesticks and a jug? I want to know to whom he belongs; I shall have a word to say to his master!”

“And what will you say to his master, monsieur? Speak—he is before you.”

The owner of the Tower had made his way through the crowd almost as unceremoniously as his dog, and he stood in the midst of the sale before anyone had even observed his approach.

Monsieur Jarnouillard was thunderstruck at the abrupt appearance of that singular personage, whose aspect was stern and imposing.

Paul was dressed as simply as usual, but he carried neither gun nor stick; his long-vizored cap was pulled down over his eyes, so that the upper part of his face was in shadow.

“Ah! monsieur is the owner of this great dog, is he?” faltered the usurer, resuming his sycophantic air. “Oh, yes—true—I think I recognize monsieur and his dog.”

“Tell me if Ami has broken anything here?”

Meanwhile Madame Jarnouillard was making innumerable signs to her husband, and calling to him:

“To the right—that’s all wrong! turn it to the right! it’s on crooked!”

But the implacable creditor, engrossed by the sale, paid no heed to his wife’s signs. He was about to put up an old walnut commode, the peasant’s most valuable piece of furniture, when Paul caught him by the arm, saying:

“One moment, monsieur! You are selling out this poor family’s house and furniture, I believe? The grief of the poor mother sitting over yonder, with her four children about her, does not touch you!”

“Monsieur, business is—business! they are in debt to me, I need my money——”

“Enough, monsieur! How much does your claim amount to?”

“Nearly nine hundred francs; it will amount to a thousand with the costs.”

“Very good; offer the house for sale at once.”

“The house? I beg pardon, but we haven’t finished with the furniture yet, and I would like——”

“I tell you that I propose to buy the house; if it brings enough to pay your debt, then you won’t need to sell the furniture.”

“Of course not; but I doubt very much whether this hovel——”

These words were uttered in a tone which made Jarnouillard as flexible as a glove. He leaned toward the auctioneer and said in a low tone:

“This man is very anxious to have the house; we must make him pay for it! Suppose we should fix the upset price at—at five hundred francs?”

“It’s twice as much as it’s worth.”

“No matter, let’s try it!”

“Jarnouillard! Jarnouillard! turn it to the right! You’ve got it on crooked!”

“For God’s sake, Madame Jarnouillard, let me alone! you tire me! no matter about my wig now!”

The usurer’s wife had thrown away her efforts. She decided to return to her friends, who had been so taken aback by the arrival of the owner of the Tower that Madame Droguet had fallen against Monsieur Luminot, who fell against Madame Remplumé, who fell against her husband, who fell against Monsieur Droguet, who, having no one to fall against, contented himself with dropping on the ground the big bellows that he had been told to hold under his arm.

“What does this mean? that bear here!”

“And with his dog!”

“He never goes out without him!”

“I beg your pardon! I’ve seen him without his dog!”

“What has he come to this sale for? a man who avoids society as he does!”

“It isn’t natural!”

“What! you don’t understand why he has come here? It’s evident enough however!” said Madame Droguet, smiling maliciously; “aren’t the sirens from the Courtivaux house here?”

“Oh! to be sure! they are here, so he comes here! What penetration Madame Droguet has!”

“Why, yes, rather, I venture to flatter myself.”

While the notables indulged in these commentaries upon the presence of the owner of the Tower, the peasants, for their part, gazed with interest at the man of whom they had heard so many things. They were, for the most part, surprised to find that he was a man like other men, who had the appearance neither of a wild beast nor of an ogre.

The farmer’s family did not know whether the appearance of Paul and his dog was a subject of fear or hope to them; but the way in which the huge animal fawned upon Agathe and her friend gave them some little hope. And Ami, as if he realized that it was his duty to encourage them, ran to the spot where Guillot and his family were assembled, and gambolled about the mother and children, wagging his tail in such a meaning way that the poor creatures soon ceased to be afraid of him.

Monsieur Jarnouillard, having finished his conference with the auctioneer, shouted:

A murmur ran through his audience:

“Five hundred francs for that hovel! why, that’s ridiculous! no one will buy it.”

“If there was any land with it! but fifteen rods! what does that amount to?”

“Evidently Monsieur Jarnouillard means to keep it himself! but he might have got it for less!”

While the bystanders made these reflections aloud, the auctioneer repeated:

“Five hundred! Come, messieurs, who bids more?”

“Who bids less, you mean!” cried Monsieur Luminot, laughing heartily. “Ha! ha! that’s a great joke, that upset price! I’ll give three hundred francs for the house—on condition that it’s torn down at once!”

“And I,” said Paul, in a loud voice, “I will give two thousand francs—on condition that when the creditor and the costs are paid, whatever remains shall be immediately turned over to this poor family.”

A fairy’s wand could not have produced a more magical effect than was produced by the words of the owner of the Tower.

“Two thousand francs!”

“Two thousand francs!”

The words were echoed on all sides.

Paul walked to the desk and threw upon it two thousand-franc notes, to which Monsieur Jarnouillard made a reverence that nearly caused him to lose his wig altogether.

“To whom have we the honor of selling this house?” inquired the auctioneer; “will you kindly give us your name?”

“It is unnecessary, monsieur, for the house has not changed owners. I bought it simply to restore it to this poor farmer and his unfortunate family, whom this gentleman proposed to drive into the fields to sleep.”

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Guillot’s whole family threw themselves at their benefactor’s feet, and, unable to find words to express their gratitude, confined themselves to looking up into his face and kissing his hand and the hem of his jacket.

The tableau was touching enough to move every feeling heart. Honorine and Agathe did not try to conceal their tears.

But Madame Droguet’s party, sorely vexed at the turn affairs had taken, still tried to sneer at what was taking place.

“Bless my soul! this is superb!” said one.

“It is truly magnificent!”

“This scene was all arranged beforehand, doubtless, with the two ladies—that man’s friends. They wanted to produce a great effect.”

“I don’t know whether the gentleman from the Tower intended to produce an effect, but I regard as very noble what he has just done; it reconciles me to him and his dog.”

To add to Madame Droguet’s ill humor, her husband persisted in holding the big bellows under her nose, saying:

“No wind! I assure you, bobonne, that it doesn’t blow, it won’t work at all.”

“Hold your tongue, Droguet!” she replied; “I will find a way to make it work, I tell you.”

The sale came to an end with the purchase of the house for two thousand francs. The auctioneer soon had the account made up; Monsieur Jarnouillard being paid and the legal costs deducted, he called Guillot, to whom he handed one thousand and fifteen francs, the residue.

The farmer exclaimed aloud in his amazement:

“What! that gentleman lets me keep my house and gives me all this money too! Oh! this is too much! I don’t deserve all this!”

“Yes, for you have four children to bring up, and you took your niece into your family too,” said Paul. “I know whom I am helping, you see. Now you can afford to take a few moments’ rest, and spare yourself the time to caress your children.”

But the peasant, who deemed herself rich now, ran after Madame Dalmont and said:

“You too are very kind to us, madame, but now we’re not poor any more, thanks to the kindness of the gentleman from the Tower, so please let us pay back what you gave for all those things.”

“No, indeed,” said Honorine, “I too wish to have some share in your happiness; and if I had not the power to do as much as monsieur, surely you know that I had the inclination.”

Paul was within a few yards of Honorine, and the peasants speedily informed him what that lady had done for them at the sale. Thereupon he turned and bowed very low to her, saying:

“I am fortunate, madame, to have been able to imitate you in something!”

“You have done much more than I, monsieur,” Honorine replied, lowering her eyes.

“The merit of a good deed, madame, consists not in its money value, but in the way of doing it.”

And, after gazing earnestly for several seconds at the young woman, Paul bowed again to her and Agathe, and walked away, calling his dog, who was loath to leave Agathe and the farmer’s family, whom he seemed to look upon as old acquaintances.

Then Honorine took her friend’s arm, saying to her in a voice trembling with emotion:

“And I trust that you will not think ill of Monsieur Paul any more now?”

“Hush! what are you talking about?”

“For my part, I am awfully sorry that Monsieur Edmond did not see all that took place here; I am sure that he would have been pleased with the happiness of that poor family. But we will tell him all about it.”

Madame Droguet also left the spot with her party.

“I didn’t expect to be paid in full!” said Monsieur Jarnouillard, who was annoyed because the farmer’s house had not fallen to him.

“Madame Dalmont gave Guillot’s wife everything that she bought!” said the doctor. “That was a very pretty idea!”

“Pray don’t tire us out with your pretty ideas, doctor! Those people were acting a comedy—nothing else; they were all in concert, like thieves at a fair! Don’t you think so, Monsieur Luminot?”

“I do; and I will say more; I am entirely of your opinion!”

“Bobonne, this bellows won’t work; I can’t get any wind!”

A short time after the sale on execution, the result of which was so favorable to the Guillot family, an exciting piece of news gained currency in the little village of Chelles, and set the tongues of all the gossips of the locality in motion once more. For, you know, the smaller a place is, the more pleasure the people take in meddling with other people’s business.

It was the former dealer in wines, the facetious Luminot, who appeared at Madame Droguet’s one morning, crying:

“Have you heard the news—the great news?”

“Dear me! no, we haven’t heard anything; how do you expect me to hear anything, with Monsieur Droguet thinking of nothing but his horrid Lancers quadrille, which he will never learn.—Tell me, Monsieur Luminot, what is it about?”

“The Goldfish Villa, you mean? so called because there’s a pond full of them there.”

“I didn’t know that; that’s an additional advantage of the property.”

“Well, what about the house?”

“It was sold a few days ago—to some very distinguished people, so it seems, and necessarily very rich, for nobody else could indulge in such a country house.”

“Mon Dieu! it’s no château; I believe they wanted sixty thousand francs for it; they probably sold it for fifty.”

“Well, fifty thousand francs for a country house, where you don’t live all the time, is no trifle; and think of all you have to spend when you buy a place! There’s a park of ten acres——”

“It isn’t a park, it’s a garden with a clump of trees.”

“I beg pardon—a garden of ten acres! that’s too big for a garden.”

“If you insist on calling it a park, I’ve no objection. Well, who are these distinguished people who have bought the Goldfish Villa?”

“They have a carriage.”

“They have a carriage!—with horses?”

“Yes, indeed, with real horses! There are just the husband and wife—no children. They live in great style, and they say the lady’s extremely pretty—and so stylish!”

“I must have seen it!”

“The man didn’t so much as notice it! a gray damask with green stripes.”

“Oh, yes! it was magnificent; you were at least twelve feet round.”

“I am not talking about how large round I was; I am talking about the material of my dress, which cost twenty francs a yard; and it’s so stiff that it stands alone! it’s superb!”

“You were simply gorgeous!”

“Bah! you men think of nothing but novelty; you go into ecstasies beforehand over a woman you don’t know.”

“I am not going into ecstasies over her; I am simply repeating what I have been told; and I am very glad to see nice people flocking to our part of the country.”

“What are the names of these nice people?”

“Wait a moment—they told me the person’s name—it’s an odd name—that of a place in the outskirts of Paris—a well-known place.”

“What! these distinguished people bear the name of a place?”

“Why not?—It isn’t Saint-Cloud.”

“Ha! ha! Monsieur and Madame Saint-Cloud! that would be amusing!”

“It isn’t Vaugirard—the devil! I did know the name. It isn’t La Villette!”

“Madame Droguet, I’ve heard some news——”

“My dear woman, I fancy that your news isn’t news to me. The Goldfish Villa is sold, isn’t it?”

“Ah! you know it! but it’s just out.”

“I have only known it a minute; neighbor Luminot came to tell us.”

“How in the world does he make out to get all the news first?”

“Oh! I walk about here and there and everywhere, mesdames.”

“The new owners are to come to-day to take possession of their property, where they mean to pass the whole summer.”

“Ah! that is something we didn’t know. And what is the name of these people? Monsieur Luminot can’t remember.”

“Their name—wait a minute; I heard what it was; it’s near La Courtille.”

“Their name is near La Courtille! Really, I don’t understand.—Well, Droguet, have you finished your pirouetting? I have zigzags before my eyes, it makes me see stars to watch him whirl round like that; when I married him I didn’t get a husband, but a teetotum—nothing else!”

Madame Jarnouillard soon increased this amiable party by her presence.

“Yes, yes—we know it.”

“But no one can remember the purchaser’s name.”

“Monsieur de Belleville.”

“That’s it, yes, that’s it; didn’t I tell you it was in the outskirts of Paris?”

“Why, you didn’t tell us so at all; Monsieur Belleville; that’s a real name.”

“De Belleville!”

“Is there a de?”

“Yes, they are nobles.”

“It’s to be hoped that they will be decently polite; that they will call on us, and not act like those minxes at the Courtivaux house.”

“Oh! there’s no danger! On the contrary, it seems that the lady intends to give some gorgeous fêtes, and invite the whole neighborhood!”

“Really! How do you know that so soon, Madame Jarnouillard?”

“Oh! because the last time the purchasers came in their carriage to inspect the property—that is to say, the lady came alone; no one has seen the husband yet—Jarnouillard, who happened to be passing, led their coachman into conversation, in order to get some information.”

“That was an excellent idea, very prudent; in that way one finds out who people are. Did the coachman say anything more?”

“Oh, well! if they live in the Chaussée d’Antin, I have the very highest opinion of their morality!”

“And they are to take possession to-day?”

“So it is said.”

“Jarnouillard will take occasion to walk by the Goldfish Villa, and he will find out whether the new owners are there.”

“Really, Monsieur Jarnouillard is a most invaluable man for obtaining information!”

That same day, about two o’clock in the afternoon, a fine open calèche rumbled noisily through the little village of Chelles. The coachman had received orders to crack his whip constantly, and he acquitted himself of that duty so zealously that the children shrieked and fled as he passed, the hens had barely time to reach their dung-heaps, the dogs barked, and everybody ran to see what was happening.

On the back seat of the calèche sat Monsieur and Madame de Belleville.

Thélénie, in a fascinating morning costume, assumed the careless air, accompanied by disdainful movements of the head, which the belles of the demi-monde always have at their command, to throw dust in the eyes of fools. Chamoureau sat very straight and stiff; he might readily have been taken for a man of wood placed there to do escort duty.

Then there was a multitude of boxes, packages and trunks; Chamoureau held four boxes on his knees, the maid three, and madame none.

Thélénie had wasted no time after the conversation with her husband, in which he had told her that Edmond had a love-affair at Chelles and had hired a house there; she had started at once for that quarter, and on arriving had inquired concerning houses for sale or for rent in the village. There was nothing for rent except some small apartments unsuited to her new position. But the confectioner’s house was for sale, and was pointed out to her as the most desirable estate in the place.

Thélénie went at once to inspect the Goldfish Villa. It had been built for one of our fashionable actresses, so that it was certain to please Thélénie, and on leaving it she went at once to the person in whose hands the estate had been placed for sale; the bargain was soon struck and an appointment made for the next day, at a notary’s in Paris.

Thélénie, who carried the key to the cash-box, paid cash for her purchase; so that Chamoureau, when he brought the Petites-Affiches to his wife the next day, that she might make a selection among the estates offered for sale in the suburbs, was greatly surprised to learn that everything had been done, and that he was the owner of a fine country house at Chelles.

“I say! at Chelles!” cried Chamoureau; “that’s funny enough.”

“Why, Chelles is the very place where Edmond Didier has hired a house, in order to be near Madame Dalmont and her young friend.”

“Well, monsieur, what difference does that make to us? is it any of our business? Because Monsieur Edmond is carrying on an intrigue in that neighborhood, should that prevent me from buying a charming estate in a lovely country which I like immensely?”

“Certainly not, my dear love; I didn’t mean anything of the kind; I simply made the remark.”

“Another time keep your remarks to yourself; but make all your purchases and preparations; in five days we will go down to take possession of our new estate. I require that length of time to have the dresses made and the bonnets that I want to take with me.”

The five days having passed, Chamoureau came to take possession of a country house which he had never seen. When they drove through the village, where many of the streets were narrow, dirty and ill-paved, he did not fail to exclaim:

“Charming country! delightful country! It reminds me of Switzerland.”

“Have you been in Switzerland, monsieur?”

“No, but I had a client who used often to talk to me about it. How delicious the country air is! what a pleasure to breathe it!”

“You are not happy in your observations, monsieur; there is a horrible smell here.”

“That’s nothing, madame; a pond stirred up by the ducks—that’s all; it’s gone already.—There are some very pretty houses. Ah! this one is built in imitation of a chalet; that’s an original idea.”

“Have you ever seen any real chalets, monsieur?”

“No; but one of my clients drew a sketch of one for me.”

“Monsieur de Belleville, I trust that you will soon stop talking about your clients; you must try not to say such things before company. Why need you let people know that you were once in business? You are stupid!”

“Why, madame, I might have been an advocate; that’s a fine profession!”

“Ha! ha! an advocate! you an advocate! Great heaven! who would believe it?”

“Everybody is running to their doors and windows to see us pass, madame.”

“Good! they are quite right!”

“Shall I bow, my dear?”

“I should say not! Why should you bow? Do you imagine yourself somebody of importance—a prefect—a general?”

“I am not, but I might be! Well, then, I will content myself with smiling at the people.”

“No, no, monsieur; don’t smile either, I beg you; it’s not necessary.”

“Look out for what you have on your knees; that’s the best thing you can do.”

“Ah! the landscape becomes positively enchanting. Are we approaching our property?”

“Yes, monsieur; look—on the right—you can see it from here.”

“What! that magnificent house, with a terrace and jars of flowers?”

“Yes, monsieur.”

“And that beautiful avenue of lindens in front is ours too?”

“To be sure; it goes with the house.”

“And we are going to drive through that avenue?”

“Of course; would you prefer to fly over it?”

“Madame, I am dazzled—enchanted.”

“Don’t look so enchanted, monsieur; one would think that you never had seen anything before.”

“But there’s a gate at the end of the avenue; ah! it’s open; is there somebody at the house?”

“There is the gardener, who acts as concierge too, and whom I have retained.”

“Very good. Yes, I see a man by the gate; he expects us, no doubt.”

“I sent him word that we should come to-day.”

The calèche arrived at the gate, at which stood an old peasant with a rake over his shoulder, who bowed humbly to his new masters when their carriage turned into the avenue.

“Why didn’t he fire?”

“Fire what, monsieur?”

“His gun.”

“In order to do that, he would have to have one.”

“Wasn’t that a gun over his shoulder?”

“No, monsieur, it was a rake.”

“Oh! I thought it was a gun; a gun would have been better, for he could have fired it on our arrival.”

“Once more, monsieur, remember that you are not the lord of the manor, that you should be received with a salvo of musketry!”

“That makes no difference, madame; a servant always has the right to discharge his gun when his masters come home.”

“If all servants did that every time that their masters came home there would be an incessant fusillade everywhere.”

At last the carriage drew up in front of a pretty stoop. The maid alighted; Chamoureau, who was in a hurry to inspect his property, attempted to do the same and dropped on the ground all the boxes and packages that he had on his knees.

Thereupon Thélénie made a great outcry and applied some far from complimentary epithets to her husband. To escape that deluge of abuse, the new proprietor darted up the steps, through the vestibule, up a flight of stairs, and disappeared.

Mademoiselle Mélie went into ecstasies over the elegance and convenient arrangement of the rooms, and the beauty of the view, while she dressed her mistress, who began operations by changing her costume; then the maid went to her own room.

Thélénie, alone in a dainty boudoir adjoining her bedroom, opened a window from which several of the houses in the village were visible, and glanced at them a moment, saying to herself:

“I shall soon know where Edmond lives, and those women whom he goes to see. Why should I not find out now?—Mélie!”

The maid answered the call at once.

“Go and bring the concierge to me; if he is not downstairs, you will find him in the garden.”

The concierge speedily obeyed his new mistress’s summons.

“First of all, what is your name? I have forgotten it.”

“Thomasseau, madame, at your service.”

“Tell me, Thomasseau, do you know this country well?”

“Like my pocket, madame.”

“There was a house, belonging to one Monsieur Courtivaux, which was purchased by a lady a few months ago?”

“That’s the very one; and she has a young woman with her——”

“Mamzelle Agathe—a fine slip of a girl!”

“Well, tell me, Thomasseau, in which direction is that lady’s house?”

“Oh! it’s at the other side of the village, in sight of the railroad.”

“And I can’t see it from this window?”

“No, madame, there’s too many houses in between.”

“Do you know also where a young man from Paris lives—a very fashionable young man, who has hired a large house just for himself alone?”

“A nice-looking, dandified young gentleman? that must be the one who’s hired Monsieur Durand’s house.”

“His name is Edmond Didier.”

“That’s it, Monsieur Edmond; well, he lives not far from Madame Droguet’s, on the main street.”

“Can I see his house from here?”

“No better than the other; it’s on the other side, where the land slopes off a little; the village ain’t as even as a mirror.”

“Very well; thanks.—I cannot see their houses,” thought the beautiful brunette, “but that won’t prevent my knowing what they do on the other side of the village. I will go out and walk about my garden; it’s quite extensive and there must be other points of view.”

After a long stroll the lady with the great black eyes returned to her apartment, which she examined more in detail; then she gave orders for the dinner to be hurried forward, the change of air having sharpened her appetite.

All this had taken time, and Thélénie suddenly remembered that she had not seen her husband since their arrival. She concluded that he was sulky because she had abused him so on the subject of her bandboxes, and she gave no further thought to him.

Meanwhile time passed, and madame was informed that dinner was served.

“Very well,” said Thélénie; “tell monsieur that I am going to dine.”

“But where shall I find monsieur, madame?”

“Where will you find him? why, in his apartment, I presume.”

“Where is his apartment, madame?”

“Just opposite mine—in the right wing, on the first floor.”

Mademoiselle went in search of her master; but she soon returned and said:

“I have been to all the rooms you mentioned, madame, and I haven’t been able to find monsieur.”

Madame seated herself at the table and ate her soup. She came to the hors d’œuvre and still Chamoureau did not appear; but the gardener and the coachman reported that they had looked everywhere and that monsieur was certainly not in the garden or in the wood.

“This is very strange! Where has he hidden himself? Can he have fallen into some hole?”

“Oh! madame, there ain’t a single hole on your whole estate just now.”

“But the pond?”

“The pond’s only two feet and a half deep; you’d have to work pretty hard to drown yourself in it!—Besides, Monsieur de Belleville ain’t a child.”

“Madame,” said the maid, “monsieur was the first one to enter the house, and we haven’t seen or heard him since. It’s a very strange thing! He didn’t know the house, for it’s the first time he ever came here; he must have got lost in the cellar.”

“It is hardly probable that Monsieur de Belleville began by rushing down to inspect the cellar as soon as he got here. But no matter, let someone go and look.”

The servants went down into the cellars, which were quite extensive; they went through every part of them, calling their master, but they found no one.

They visited the attics, then the loft, but they did not find Chamoureau.

“It must be that monsieur’s fallen into one of the wells,” cried the gardener; “there’s two in the garden!”

And they were going down to inspect the wells, when, as they reached the second floor, Mademoiselle Mélie thought that she heard a voice coming from the end of a corridor which led to the toilet rooms.

“Wait a minute!” she said; “I heard something that sounded like a voice calling; it came from this direction.”

They walked along the corridor, and soon they heard Chamoureau’s voice distinctly, crying:

“Holà! help! this way! come and let me out! Sapristi! I’ve been shut up here since morning, and I can’t get out!”

“Oh! mon Dieu! monsieur is shut up there! let’s hurry!”

The little cabinet was at the very end of the corridor, and was lighted from above only; to open the door, one had simply to push it, then it closed automatically. But there was nothing inside to take hold of—neither knob nor latch—so that the person who entered the place, if he allowed the door to close, could not get out until someone came to set him free.

But Thélénie had something else in her head, and not until the dinner hour arrived did she remember her husband. So that the new owner of the house had passed more than six hours in the little toilet-room—from half-past twelve until a quarter to seven; for his voice, stifled by the thick door, was not strong enough to reach the end of the long corridor, upon which several rooms opened, but all were unoccupied.

“Credié; this is very lucky!” cried Chamoureau, as yellow as a quince after his prolonged stay in the little room; and he rushed out into the corridor so quickly that Mademoiselle Mélie fell back on the coachman, who fell back on the gardener, who, having no one to support him, fell on his centre of gravity, saying:

“What! the bourgeois has been in that closet since morning! He must be feeling pretty bad!”

“No, monsieur, of course not; if we had heard you, we shouldn’t have had to look for you very long.”

“Well! this has been rather an unpleasant apprenticeship; it’s been a terribly long day to me. If I have got to pass my time in the country this way, I’ll go back to Paris at once!”

“Dinner was served long ago, and madame is waiting for monsieur at table.”

“She’s waiting for me at table! She doesn’t seem to have been very anxious about me! Well, I’ll go to dinner; I need refreshment.”

“Poor dear man!” muttered the gardener; “I should think so!”

“Here you are at last, monsieur! Where on earth were you hiding? what pretty behavior now! to make us scour the whole place for you!” said Thélénie when her husband appeared in the dining-room.

“I did not hide for my own amusement, madame. I have been a prisoner in a place which I certainly should not have selected for a prison.”

“A prisoner! what do you mean by that?”

“For heaven’s sake, monsieur, do you want to give yourself an attack of indigestion?”

“I have a right to, madame! When a man has passed six hours in that place, he owes himself some compensation.”