He read no newspapers but the Quotidienne and the Gazette de France,

two journals accused by the Constitutional press of obscurantist views
and uncounted "monarchical and religious" enormities; while the

Marquis d'Esgrignon, on the other hand, found heresies and
revolutionary doctrines in every issue. No matter to what extremes the

organs of this or that opinion may go, they will never go quite far
enough to please the purists on their own side; even as the portrayer

of this magnificentpersonage is pretty certain to be accused of
exaggeration, whereas he has done his best to soften down some of the

cruder tones and dim the more startling tints of the original.
The Marquis d'Esgrignon rested his elbows on his knees and leant his

head on his hands. During his meditations Mlle. Armande and the
Chevalier looked at one another without uttering the thoughts in their

minds. Was he pained by the discovery that his son's future must
depend upon his sometime land steward? Was he doubtful of the

reception awaiting the young Count? Did he regret that he had made no
preparation for launching his heir into that brilliant world of court?

Poverty had kept him in the depths of his province; how should he have
appeared at court? He sighed heavily as he raised his head.

That sigh, in those days, came from the real aristocracy all over
France; from the loyal provincial noblesse, consigned to neglect with

most of those who had drawn sword and braved the storm for the cause.
"What have the Princes done for the du Guenics, or the Fontaines, or

the Bauvans, who never submitted?" he muttered to himself. "They fling
miserable pensions to the men who fought most bravely, and give them a

royal lieutenancy in a fortress somewhere on the outskirts of the
kingdom."

Evidently the Marquis doubted the reigning dynasty. Mlle. d'Esgrignon
was trying to reassure her brother as to the prospects of the journey,

when a step outside on the dry narrow footway gave them notice of
Chesnel's coming. In another moment Chesnel appeared; Josephin, the

Count's gray-aired valet, admitted the notary without announcing him.
"Chesnel, my boy----" (Chesnel was a white-haired man of sixty-nine,

with a square-jawed, venerablecountenance; he wore knee-breeches,
ample enough to fill several chapters of dissertation in the manner of

Sterne, ribbed stockings, shoes with silver clasps, an ecclesiastical-
looking coat and a high waistcoat of scholastic cut.)

"Chesnel, my boy, it was very presumptuous of you to lend money to the
Comte d'Esgrignon! If I repaid you at once and we never saw each other

again, it would be no more than you deserve for giving wings to his
vices."

There was a pause, a silence such as there falls at court when the
King publicly reprimands a courtier. The old notary looked humble and

contrite.
"I am anxious about that boy, Chesnel," continued the Marquis in a

kindly tone; "I should like to send him to Paris to serve His Majesty.
Make arrangements with my sister for his suitable appearance at

court.--And we will settle accounts----"
The Marquis looked grave as he left the room with a friendly gesture

of farewell to Chesnel.
"I thank M. le Marquis for all his goodness," returned the old man,

who still remained standing.
Mlle. Armande rose to go to the door with her brother; she had rung

the bell, old Josephin was in readiness to light his master to his
room.

"Take a seat, Chesnel," said the lady, as she returned, and with
womanly tact she explained away and softened the Marquis' harshness.

And yet beneath that harshness Chesnel saw a great affection. The
Marquis' attachment for his old servant was something of the same

order as a man's affection for his dog; he will fight any one who
kicks the animal, the dog is like a part of his existence, a something

which, if not exactly himself, represents him in that which is nearest
and dearest--his sensibilities.

"It is quite time that M. le Comte should be sent away from the town,
mademoiselle," he said sententiously.

"Yes," returned she. "Has he been indulging in some new escapade?"
"No, mademoiselle."

"Well, why do you blame him?"
"I am not blaming him, mademoiselle. No, I am not blaming him. I am

very far from blaming him. I will even say that I shall never blame
him, whatever he may do."

There was a pause. The Chevalier, nothing if not quick to take in a
situation, began to yawn like a sleep-ridden mortal. Gracefully he

made his excuses and went, with as little mind to sleep as to go and
drown himself. The imp Curiosity kept the Chevalier wide awake, and

with airy fingers plucked away the cotton wool from his ears.
"Well, Chesnel, is it something new?" Mlle. Armande began anxiously.

"Yes, things that cannot be told to M. le Marquis; he would drop down
in an apoplectic fit."

"Speak out," she said. With her beautiful head leant on the back of
her low chair, and her arms extended listlessly by her side, she

looked as if she were waiting passively for her deathblow.
"Mademoiselle, M. le Comte, with all his cleverness, is a plaything in

the hands of mean creatures, petty natures on the lookout for a
crushing revenge. They want to ruin us and bring us low! There is the

President of the Tribunal, M. de Ronceret; he has, as you know, a very
great notion of his descent----"

"His grandfather was an attorney," interposed Mlle. Armande.
"I know he was. And for that reason you have not received him; nor

does he go to M. de Troisville's, nor to M. le Duc de Verneuil's, nor
to the Marquis de Casteran's; but he is one of the pillars of du

Croisier's salon. Your nephew may rub shoulders with young M. Fabien
du Ronceret without condescending too far, for he must have companions

of his own age. Well and good. That young fellow is at the bottom of
all M. le Comte's follies; he and two or three of the rest of them

belong to the other side, the side of M. le Chevalier's enemy, who
does nothing but breathe threats of vengeance against you and all the

nobles together. They all hope to ruin you through your nephew. The
ringleader of the conspiracy is this sycophant of a du Croisier, the

pretended Royalist. Du Croisier's wife, poor thing, knows nothing
about it; you know her, I should have heard of it before this if she

had ears to hear evil. For some time these wild young fellows were not
in the secret, nor was anybody else; but the ringleaders let something

drop in jest, and then the fools got to know about it, and after the
Count's recent escapades they let fall some words while they were

drunk. And those words were carried to me by others who are sorry to
see such a fine, handsome, noble, charming lad ruining himself with

pleasure. So far people feel sorry for him; before many days are over
they will--I am afraid to say what----"

"They will despise him; say it out, Chesnel!" Mlle. Armande cried
piteously.

"Ah! How can you keep the best people in the town from finding out
faults in their neighbors? They do not know what to do with themselves

from morning to night. And so M. le Comte's losses at play are all
reckoned up. Thirty thousand francs have taken flight during these two

months, and everybody wonders where he gets the money. If they mention
it when I am present, I just call them to order. Ah! but--'Do you

suppose' (I told them this morning), 'do you suppose that if the
d'Esgrignon family have lost their manorial rights, that therefore

they have been robbed of their hoard of treasure? The young Count has
a right to do as he pleases; and so long as he does not owe you a

half-penny, you have no right to say a word.' "
Mlle, Armande held out her hand, and the notary kissed it

respectfully.
"Good Chesnel! . . . But, my friend, how shall we find the money for

this journey? Victurnien must appear as befits his rank at court."
"Oh! I have borrowed money on Le Jard, mademoiselle."

"What? You have nothing left! Ah, heaven! what can we do to reward
you?"

"You can take the hundred thousand francs which I hold at your
disposal. You can understand that the loan was negotiated in