lease, of ending his days there, he lived rather plainly, served by an

old cook and the former maid of the late Madame Cardot,--both of whom
expected to reap an annuity of some six hundred francs apiece on the

old man's death. These two women took the utmost care of him, and were
all the more interested in doing so because no one was ever less fussy

or less fault-finding than he. The apartment, furnished by the late
Madame Cardot, had remained in the same condition for the last six

years,--the old man being perfectlycontented with it. He spent in all
not more than three thousand francs a year there; for he dined in

Paris five days in the week, and returned home at midnight in a
hackney-coach, which belonged to an establishment at Courtille. The

cook had only her master's breakfast to provide on those days. This
was served at eleven o'clock; after that he dressed and perfumed

himself, and departed for Paris. Usually, a bourgeois gives notice in
the household if he dines out; old Cardot, on the contrary, gave

notice when he dined at home.
This little old man--fat, rosy, squat, and strong--always looked, in

popular speech, as if he had stepped from a bandbox. He appeared in
black silk stockings, breeches of "pou-de-soie" (paduasoy), a white

pique waistcoat, dazzling shirt-front, a blue-bottle coat, violet silk
gloves, gold buckles to his shoes and his breeches, and, lastly, a

touch of powder and a little queue tied with black ribbon. His face
was remarkable for a pair of eyebrows as thick as bushes, beneath

which sparkled his gray eyes; and for a square nose, thick and long,
which gave him somewhat the air of the abbes of former times. His

countenance did not belie him. Pere Cardot belonged to that race of
lively Gerontes which is now disappearing rapidly, though it once

served as Turcarets to the comedies and tales of the eighteenth
century. Uncle Cardot always said "Fair lady," and he placed in their

carriages, and otherwise paid attention to those women whom he saw
without protectors; he "placed himself at their disposition," as he

said, in his chivalrous way.
But beneath his calm air and his snowy poll he concealed an old age

almost wholly given up to mere pleasure. Among men he openly professed
epicureanism, and gave himself the license of free talk. He had seen

no harm in the devotion of his son-in-law, Camusot, to Mademoiselle
Coralie, for he himself was secretly the Mecaenas of Mademoiselle

Florentine, the first danseuse at the Gaiete. But this life and these
opinions never appeared in his own home, nor in his external conduct

before the world. Uncle Cardot, grave and polite, was thought to be
somewhat cold, so much did he affect decorum; a "devote" would have

called him a hypocrite.
The worthy old gentleman hated priests; he belonged to that great

flock of ninnies who subscribed to the "Constitutionnel," and was much
concerned about "refusals to bury." He adored Voltaire, though his

preferences were really for Piron, Vade, and Colle. Naturally, he
admired Beranger, whom he wittily called the "grandfather of the

religion of Lisette." His daughters, Madame Camusot and Madame Protez,
and his two sons would, to use a popular expression, have been

flabbergasted if any one had explained to them what their father meant
by "singing la Mere Godichon."

This long-headed parent had never mentioned his income to his
children, who, seeing that he lived in a cheap way, reflected that he

had deprived himself of his property for their sakes, and, therefore,
redoubled their attentions and tenderness. In fact, he would sometimes

say to his sons:--
"Don't lose your property; remember, I have none to leave you."

Camusot, in whom he recognized a certain likeness to his own nature,
and whom he liked enough to make a sharer in his secret pleasures,

alone knew of the thirty thousand a year annuity. But Camusot approved
of the old man's ethics, and thought that, having made the happiness

of his children and nobly fulfilled his duty by them, he now had a
right to end his life jovially.

"Don't you see, my friend," said the former master of the Cocon d'Or,
"I might re-marry. A young woman would give me more children. Well,

Florentine doesn't cost me what a wife would; neither does she bore
me; and she won't give me children to lessen your property."

Camusot considered that Pere Cardot gave expression to a high sense of
family duty in these words; he regarded him as an admirable father-in-

law.
"He knows," thought he, "how to unite the interests of his children

with the pleasures which old age naturally desires after the worries
of business life."

Neither the Cardots, nor the Camusots, nor the Protez knew anything of
the ways of life of their aunt Clapart. The family intercourse was

restricted to the sending of notes of "faire part" on the occasion of
deaths and marriages, and cards at the New Year. The proud Madame

Clapart would never have brought herself to seek them were it not for
Oscar's interests, and because of her friendship for Moreau, the only

person who had been faithful to her in misfortune. She had never
annoyed old Cardot by her visits, or her importunities, but she held

to him as to a hope, and always went to see him once every three
months and talked to him of Oscar, the nephew of the late respectable

Madame Cardot; and she took the boy to call upon him three times
during each vacation. At each of these visits the old gentleman had

given Oscar a dinner at the Cadran-Bleu, taking him, afterwards, to
the Gaiete, and returning him safely to the rue de la Cerisaie. On one

occasion, having given the boy an entirely new suit of clothes, he
added the silver cup and fork and spoon required for his school

outfit.
Oscar's mother endeavored to impress the old gentleman with the idea

that his nephew cherished him, and she constantly referred to the cup
and the fork and spoon and to the beautiful suit of clothes, though

nothing was then left of the latter but the waistcoat. But such little
arts did Oscar more harm than good when practised on so sly an old fox

as uncle Cardot. The latter had never much liked his departed wife, a
tall, spare, red-haired woman; he was also aware of the circumstances

of the late Husson's marriage with Oscar's mother, and without in the
least condemning her, he knew very well that Oscar was a posthumous

child. His nephew, therefore, seemed to him to have no claims on the
Cardot family. But Madame Clapart, like all women who concentrate

their whole being into the sentiment of motherhood, did not put
herself in Cardot's place and see the matter from his point of view;

she thought he must certainly be interested in so sweet a child, who
bore the maiden name of his late wife.

"Monsieur," said old Cardot's maid-servant, coming out to him as he
walked about the garden while awaiting his breakfast, after his

hairdresser had duly shaved him and powdered his queue, "the mother of
your nephew, Oscar, is here."

"Good-day, fair lady," said the old man, bowing to Madame Clapart, and
wrapping his white pique dressing-gown about him. "Hey, hey! how this

little fellow grows," he added, taking Oscar by the ear.
"He has finished school, and he regretted so much that his dear uncle

was not present at the distribution of the Henri IV. prizes, at which
he was named. The name of Husson, which, let us hope, he will bear

worthily, was proclaimed--"
"The deuce it was!" exclaimed the little old man, stopping short.

Madame Clapart, Oscar, and he were walking along a terrace flanked by
oranges, myrtles, and pomegranates. "And what did he get?"

"The fourth rank in philosophy," replied the mother proudly.
"Oh! oh!" cried uncle Cardot, "the rascal has a good deal to do to

make up for lost time; for the fourth rank in philosophy, well, IT
ISN'T PERU, you know! You will stay and breakfast with me?" he added.

"We are at your orders," replied Madame Clapart. "Ah! my dear Monsieur
Cardot, what happiness it is for fathers and mothers when their

children make a good start in life! In this respect--indeed, in all
others," she added, catching herself up, "you are one of the most

fortunate fathers I have ever known. Under your virtuous son-in-law
and your amiable daughter, the Cocon d'Or continues to be the greatest