vor of his
affinities in Paris, "you love this girl, and you are devilishly
right. She is damnably handsome! Instead of billing and cooing she
makes you trot like a valet; well, that's all simple enough; but she
wants to see you six feet underground, so that she may marry Max, whom
she adores."

"I know that, Philippe, but I love her all the same."

"Well, I have sworn by the soul of my mother, who is your own sister,"
continued Philippe, "to make your Rabouilleuse as supple as my glove,
and the same as she was before that scoundrel, who is unworthy to have
served in the Imperial Guard, ever came to quarter himself in your
house."

"Ah! if you could do that!--" said the old man.

"It is very easy," answered Philippe, cutting his uncle short. "I'll
kill Max as I would a dog; but--on one condition," added the old
campaigner.

"What is that?" said Rouget, looking at his nephew in a stupid way.

"Don't sign that power of attorney which they want of you before the
third of December; put them off till then. Your torturers only want it
to enable them to sell the fifty thousand a year you have in the
Funds, so that they may run off to Paris and pay for their wedding
festivities out of your millions."

"I am afraid so," replied Rouget.

"Well, whatever they may say or do to you, put off giving that power
of attorney until next week."

"Yes; but when Flore talks to me she stirs my very soul, till I don't
know what I do. I give you my word, when she looks at me in a certain
way, her blue eyes seem like paradise, and I am no longer master of
myself,--especially when for some days she had been harsh to me."

"Well, whether she is sweet or sour, don't do more than promise to
sign the paper, and let me know the night before you are going to do
it. That will answer. Maxence shall not be your proxy unless he first
kills me. If I kill him, you must agree to take me in his place, and
I'll undertake to break in that handsome girl and keep her at your
beck and call. Yes, Flore shall love you, and if she doesn't satisfy
you--thunder! I'll thrash her."

"Oh! I never could allow that. A blow struck at Flore would break my
heart."

"But it is the only way to govern women and horses. A man makes
himself feared, or loved, or respected. Now that is what I wanted to
whisper in your ear--Good-morning, gentlemen," he said to Mignonnet
and Carpentier, who came up at the moment; "I am taking my uncle for a
walk, as you see, and trying