dark anniversary for me, if not for you; and I scarcely thought you
would have let it pass without a thought. Nay, I need not wish its
darkness to lie on you for ever either; but, Antoine, remember you are
all I have left. In my silent, lonely life, and this dull house--and I
always a reserved and seeming loveless man--you may well pine for
something more, some lighter, gayer time, and ever brood over the means
to find it. But remember, my son, that you are by birth above the paltry
pleasures of the herd; that you can come to me and ask for money if you
covet some pastime that befits you; that you need conceal nothing from
me--have no friend that I may not know also."

Antoine's face flushed for a moment. It was seldom, indeed, that his
grandfather spoke in a voice so tender and so yearning. Almost
insensibly his arm stole round the old man's neck.

"What is it?" he said again. "What have I done?"

"I accuse you of nothing, lad," replied his grandfather, gently
disengaging himself. "I thought perhaps your tastes may have needed more
money. You do not gamble, Antoine; you are never out late, for I can
hear you come in, and the sound of your violin penetrates to my room, so
that I know when you are at home. I don't expect you to be always with
me; I would not have it so; but when you want money--"

"Grandfather," said the young man hastily, "I know not what you mean.
Have I ever asked for more than the allowance you make me? Do I
complain? Except for the two or three bills that you have paid for me of
your own free-will, do I exceed your bounty?"

"Talk not of bounty, boy," said the elder, flushing in his turn.
"Antoine, could you read my heart you would see that all I desire is to
show to you the love that the world would give me no credit for, that my
own children even, thy--thy mother, Antoine, and--and Sara--ah! leave me
just now, my dear; I am surely growing old and childish, but I have
still enough of the old manhood left not to wish even my grandson to
witness my weakness. Leave me, boy, and let us meet at supper in my
room. I shall go out presently to see old Pierre, and, if I can, to
bring him home with me. Poor old faithful Pierre!"

The young man slowly left the warehouse and ascended the stairs into the
house, when he shut himself in his own room, and flung himself into a
chair, in profound dejection.

He had scarcely done so when a man came from the upper warehouse, a room
whence silk--both warp and