chman
told us that in the Bois his master did not exchange ten salutations in
ten circuits of the lake, whereas ordinarily his hat is not on his head
any more than a sovereign's when out for a drive. And when they returned
home it was much worse. The three boys had just reached the house, all
in tears and frightened to death, brought home from Bourdaloue College
by a good Father in their own interest, poor little fellows; they had
been given temporary leave of absence so that they might not hear any
unkind remarks, any cruel allusions in the parlor or the courtyard.
Thereupon the Nabob flew into a terrible rage, so that he demolished a
whole porcelain service, and it seems that, if it had not been for M. de
Gery, he would have gone off on the instant to break Moessard's head.

"And he would have done quite right," said M. Noel, entering the room at
that moment; and he, too, was greatly excited. "There's not a single
word of truth in that villain's article. My master never came to Paris
until last year. From Tunis to Marseille, and Marseille to Tunis, that's
all the travelling he did. But that scurvy journalist is taking his
revenge on us for refusing him twenty thousand francs."

"You made a very great mistake in doing that," said M. Francis,
Monpavon's Francis, valet to that old dandy, whose only tooth waggles in
the middle of his mouth whenever he says a word, but whom the young
ladies look favorably upon all the same because of his fine manners.
"Yes, you made a mistake. It is necessary to know how to handle people
carefully, as long as they are able to serve or injure us. Your Nabob
turned his back on his friends too suddenly after his success; and,
between you and me, my dear boy, he isn't strong enough to return such
blows as that."

I thought I might venture to say a word.

"It's quite true, Monsieur Noel, that your master isn't the same since
his election. He has adopted a very different tone and manners. Day
before yesterday at the _Territoriale_, he made such a hullabaloo as you
can't imagine. I heard him shout in the middle of the council meeting:
'You have lied to me, you have robbed me and made me as much of a thief
as yourselves. Show me your books, you pack of rascals!' If he treated
Moessard in that fashion, I don't wonder that he takes his revenge in
his newspaper."

"But what does the article say, anyway?" inquired M. Barreau; "who has
read it?"

No one answered. Several had tried to buy the pap