but they melted one into the other, united by their resonance,
and made a discordant uproar through which some bits of phrases were
alone intelligible.

"It is an infamous lie."

"Messieurs! Messieurs!"

"Life is not a romance."

"Sacred blouse, _beuh_! _beuh_!"

At last old Rivals's voice could be heard thundering as he crossed the
threshold:--

"May I be hanged if ever I put my foot in your house again!"

Then the door was violently slammed, and a great silence fell on the
dining-room, broken only by the clatter of knives and forks.

They were breakfasting.

"You wish to degrade him, to make him something lower than yourself."
The child remembered that phrase, and he felt that this was indeed his
enemy's intention.

Well, no; a thousand times no--he would not be a workman.

The door opened, and his mother came in.

She had cried a great deal, had shed real tears, tears such as furrow
the cheek. For the first time, a mother showed herself in that pretty
woman's face, an afflicted and sorrowing mother.

"Listen to me, Jack," she said, striving to appear severe; "I must speak
very seriously to you. You have made me very unhappy by putting yourself
in open rebellion against your real friends, and by refusing to accept
the situation they offer you. I am well aware that there is in the new
existence--"

While she spoke, she carefully avoided meeting the child's eyes, for
they had such an expression of desperate grief and heartfelt reproach
that she would not have been able to resist their appeal.

"--That there is, in the new existence we have chosen for you, an
apparent inconsistency with the life you have hitherto been leading. I
confess that I was myself at first rather startled by it, but you heard,
did you not, what was said to you? The position of a workman is no
longer what it used to be; oh no! not at all the same thing, not at all.
You must know that the time of the working-man has now come. The middle
classes have had their day, the aristocracy likewise. Although, I must
say, the aristocracy--Moreover, is it not more natural at your age, to
allow yourself to be guided by those who love you, and who are
experienced?"

A sob from the child interrupted her.

"Then you too send me away; you too send me away."

This time the mother could no longer resist. She took him in her arms,
clasped him passionately to her heart:--

"I send you away? How can you imagine such a thing? Is it possible?
Come